


if I look back

by xdarksistahx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Arianne gives Daenerys "lessons", Arranged Marriage, Aunt/Nephew Incest, But Daenerys and Jon have POVS and development throughout, Canon Era, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, My Viserys replaces Canon Viserys, R Plus L Equals J, Scissoring, Sibling Bonding, Targaryen Restoration, Viserys-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 45,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdarksistahx/pseuds/xdarksistahx
Summary: If you had the power to go back in time and alter your family's endless cycle of suffering and misery, would you? Viserys Targaryen definitely would.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Khal Drogo/Viserys Targaryen, Viserys Targaryen/Daemon Sand
Comments: 105
Kudos: 420





	1. I'm the prettier one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iamsmall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsmall/gifts).



> there are a lot of heartbreaking things occurring right now so I wrote this to distract myself. I am aware of my other fics and I am working on those updates as much as I can. This is mostly for myself but I would really love to know what anyone thought about this. This is not meant to be taken seriously. It's just a crack AU of sorts. The relationships tagged are the ONLY relationships depicted in this story.

**__ **

**_298 AC - Viserys the Unworthy_ **

Were there ever a more savage people than the Dothraki? 

Wrinkling his nose, Viserys watches two riders walk by, their long braids swaying, the bells in their hair ringing. Aside from their greasy hair and skin that never seems clean, they're loud, violent, and unruly. It burns his blood to think that these filthy horsey people will soon become his people. 

Beside him, his little sister Daenerys is anxiously wringing her fingers in the fabric of her pink gown. He fights the urge to knock her across the head. He told her to quit that once already. She is to appear strong and beautiful in the face of Khal Drogo, not insipid and afraid like some sniveling mouse. They are the blood of the dragon, the blood of kings. It is Khal Drogo and his ilk who should be begging them for their wealth and their armies. 

Except that, they have neither. 

The Beggar Prince and Princess are what their enemies refer to them as. In their attempts to evade the Usurper’s dogs they’ve had to flee their shelters and live on the streets, beg, thieve, and debase themselves in order to survive. Now they're under the protection of the Magister of Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis; a fat, perfumed man who fancies himself a fool what with the jests he makes 

It was per his suggestion that Viserys agreed to bring his sister to this feast. In order to reclaim his rightful throne in Westeros, he requires an army. For all of their wretchedness, the Dothraki are fine warriors. Well, as fine a warrior a savage can be. 

The feast is well underway. A long table is covered in an array of meats, fruits, nuts and enough wine to get an infantry piss drunk. If it wasn't for the heavy incense in the air Viserys is certain the tent would be flooded with the scent of horse manure and unwashed flesh. 

Across the sea of guests stands Khal Drogo, a tall, muscular, beast of a man with a braid that falls past his bottom down to his thighs, a drooping mustache, copper skin, and dark hair and eyes. Despite his bulkiness, he walks gracefully. Viserys has been watching him all night, sizing him up to see if he’s worth a conversation. 

As if he has the right to be choosy, he thinks bitterly. 

Glancing over at Daenerys, he notices how she’s staring at Drogo, her lilac eyes glossy and wide. She’s terrified, rightfully so. The man is a beast and Viserys intends to marry her to that beast. She will endure it. She has to. 

While a group of scantily clad dancers performs in the center of the tent, Ilyrio beings Drogo over to meet them. Viserys is sure to stand tall with his shoulders squared and his eyes hard. Instinctively, his hand brushes over the hilt of his sword; a nervous tick he’s developed over the years. He likes to think it shows that he’s always prepared for a fight though he’s never been in an actual fight before. 

The pleasantries are brief. 

Khal Drogo doesn’t speak. He only grunts and nods whenever Illyrio says something to him in Dothraki. When Daenerys is presented, Viserys watches the Khal’s face closely, expecting the man to be immediately awed by her beauty; she is a Targaryen, after all. 

But Drogo looks at her with the kind of interest one has when looking at a grain of sand. Affronted on her behalf, Viserys scowls at the warlord. When Drogo’s eyes touch his face, Viserys sees the sparkle he was hoping would be aimed at his sister. 

Drogo speaks for the first time, his words foreign to Viserys’s ears. Illyrio laughs heartily, eyeing Viserys with a knowing look. Then he touches Drogo’s shoulder and they walk away. 

“What in the bloody hell was that…” Viserys whispers to himself. 

Feeling a tug on the sleeve of his tunic, he glances down to see Daenerys staring up at him with big watery eyes.” May we leave, brother?” she asks. 

“No. We’re not done here.” He snatches his arm away from her. “Dry your eyes, and for gods’ sake straighten up. You must show him that you are a woman, that you have breasts. Gods know there isn’t much of you to work with.” 

Daenerys looks as though she wants to burst into tears. Viserys silently dares her to do so. He dares her to wake the dragon. Thankfully for her, she knows how to read his eyes. She blinks away her tears and stands straighter. 

Drogo doesn’t return to them nor does he speak another word to them at the end of the feast. Once they’re back at Illyrio’s palace, Viserys demands to know what all of that was about. 

Illyrio merely laughs. “The Khal was impressed with what he saw. We will reach an agreement soon. Do not fret, your grace.” 

Smiling, Viserys brushes his hand over his sword. “How soon can they be married?” The sooner they’re married, the sooner he’ll have his army. 

“Soon, your grace. Very soon.” 

That pacifies him for the night. Feeling mildly victorious, Viserys orders one of the magister’s serving girls to prepare him a bath. He drinks his fill of wine and fucks the serving girl in the tub, roughly and absently. Over her screams and pleads, he thinks about how he’s one step closer to obtaining all that is his. 

“Quit your crying, bitch,” he says, smiling. “You should be honored to be fucked by a dragon.” He tugs on her hair. “Tell me that you’re grateful to be fucked by a dragon!” He slaps her face with his wet hand. “Say it!” 

The serving girl sobs. “I-I am grateful...grateful to be fucked by a dragon!” 

Viserys finishes soon after and throws her out of the tub. She rushes out of the washroom, naked and shivering. After dressing, he returns to his chamber. 

“You’re one piece of work.” 

Spinning around in the darkness, Viserys looks in the direction of the voice. The candles in his bedroom aren’t lit although they should be. By the smell in the air, he can tell that they were blown out recently. Making out a form sitting on his bed, he draws his sword, his hands trembling. 

“Who goes there?” he demands hotly. “Show yourself, coward.” 

The figure slowly stands, and Viserys instinctively stumbles back, hitting the solid door. “Stay back or I will kill you!” If he can reach the door latch he can make a run for it. 

“It’s pissing me off to see how spineless I was during this time,” the person says, their voice sounding oddly familiar. “I suppose that’s why I’m here. I have to set things right.” The figure stops right in front of him. 

Viserys is so startled by the voice that he’s frozen in place. More startling is how the person makes fire appear between them, illuminating their faces. Lilac stares into lilac. Where Viserys is frightened the other person is calm and a little smug. 

“W-who are you?” Viserys asks the man who wears his face. 

The man smiles. “I’m you, but a whole lot better.” He chuckles. “And prettier.” 

The flame goes out. 

* * *

_**298 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

With a wave of his hand, Viserys closes the portal that he dropped the “imposter” into for safekeeping. He just loves being a warlock. There are so many fun things he can do. 

For instance, he can alter his appearance and run his cons with ease, he can create potions with varying effects, and he can travel through time and help restore his family’s honor. 

This particular task is different from scamming wealthy people out of their fortunes or giving his enemies potions that make them impotent in the bedroom. Yes, this task is far more important. It’s truly a life or death matter. If he doesn’t fix the mistakes his past self made then the ill-fate of his family will keep repeating itself, and soon his brother, sister, nephew, and sister-in-law will all face gruesome deaths. 

They - as in his siblings - believed that it was Rhaegar’s past life who was the source of the family’s curse, but through some digging, seances, and soul searching it was discovered that it was, in fact, Viserys who pissed off their ancestors as well as the Valyrian gods and goddesses when he betrayed Daenerys and left her to fend for herself in a disgusting world. 

So, that’s what brings Viserys here to 298 AC, during a time of war, poor plumbing, and ghastly hygiene.

Gods, the things he does for his family. 

By now, Rhaegar and Daenerys should have retrieved the package he sent them through the portal. He has a feeling his nephew will be spending the entire time torturing his past self; who could blame him, really? They all read about the horrible things past Viserys put past Daenerys through. They all know about the things that past Daenerys has been through in general. 

Inwardly, Viserys rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want to keep referring to everyone as “past” this or that. So for his own sanity, he’s going to only focus on this world. 

Closing his eyes, Viserys stretches out with his mind, trying to feel for the dragon eggs that are in Illyrio's possession. 

It was their mother who introduced the three of them to sorcery from a young age. Instead of using all of her power to prolong her life as two of their ancestors once did, she divided her power equally and gave it to them before she died. That’s why they’re more powerful than the average sorcerers and can do things like time travel. 

Feeling heat brushing against his skin, Viserys smiles to himself, thinking that he’s getting closer to the dragon eggs. But then he hears crying. It’s Daenerys that he’s sensing, not the eggs. She’s crying, and he can hear it as though he were in the bed beside her. 

There are more than likely guards outside of her chamber door - to protect her from a brother who deems himself entitled to her body- so reaching her may prove difficult. 

Then again, that’s what magic is for.

* * *

_**298 AC - Daenerys, the Little Princess** _

Had she been smart enough she would’ve hidden the blood on her bedsheet from the serving girls. That way they wouldn’t know that she flowered, they wouldn’t know that she was a woman now. But because of her stupidity, she is to be wed to the horse lord. 

Khal Drogo frightens her, it’s true. Not because he is different from her or because she doesn’t understand the words he speaks. Her fear is from his mere presence. Daenerys can’t put into words the dread he fills her with or how one look at him promises her a world of misery and sorrow. It’s just a feeling. She has these feelings often, but she never shares them with anyone. 

Who would she even tell about them? Illyrio? She hates how the man smiles at her as if he's privy to some kind of secret. The serving girls? It was because of them that her brother learned of her moon blood. Speaking of her brother, surely she can never share such a thing with him. He would probably call her stupid and hit her. 

Daenerys buries her face into the pillow and cries harder. She just wants to go home. In her dreams, she sees a lemon tree with the brightest lemons she’s ever seen. There’s a red door as well that’s arched with a bronze knocker. 

Every time she dreams of the house or thinks about it, her sadness momentarily abandons her. Where is that place? Her mind tells her that she used to live there, that she was happy there but she can’t be sure. 

“Dany,” a gentle voice says followed by a touch on her shoulder. 

Seeing Viserys standing by her bed, Daenerys flinches away and hangs her head. “Brother...I,” she whispers, her heart beating violently in her chest. “What...is something the matter?” 

Has he come to take her? Illyrio warned her to never be around her brother while he drank or to ever allow him into her bed-chamber at night. Viserys once told her that her maidenhead belonged to him. Has he come to take what’s his before the horse lord can. 

Shivering, Daenerys lays down on her back, placing her hands at her side. If she cries or fights him he’ll get angrier. It will hurt less if she doesn’t fight him. 

Viserys frowns. His eyes look so different for some reason. They’re softer, reminding her of the brother who used to carry her on his back and read her stories. Is it a trick? No, Viserys would never bother with a trick. He knows that he can overpower her. 

“I came because I heard you crying,” Viserys says quietly. “I also came to put your worries to rest, sister. You will not be marrying Khal Drogo.” 

Daenerys eyes him warily. “Then...then who will I be marrying?” she asks, her voice a small squeak. 

“How old are you?” 

“You know I am three and ten.” 

Viserys looks physically ill. “You will be marrying no one for a long time. So don’t worry about that.” His voice is even different as well as his height. Is he taller? “From now on, I just need you to trust in me and do as I say until it’s time for you to...rule yourself.” 

Daenerys stares into his eyes for a long time; something she hasn’t been able to do in years. Something in his gaze puts her at ease. She nods. She will trust in him. This is all the family she has left, after all. Besides, she wants to do all that she can to ensure he gets his throne and become the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. 

“Sleep well, sister,” Viserys says, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Your big brother will protect you.” 

She doesn’t see him leave as she falls asleep shortly after, thinking the entire exchange was nothing more than a dream. 

* * *

_**298 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

“How did you sleep, your grace?” Illyrio Mopatis asks him the following morning while they break their fast on the balcony that overlooks the beach. 

Viserys is picking over his food, eyeing everything with suspicion. “Poorly. Are the beds made of porcupine hide or what?” he asks. He may not be nearly as cruel as his past self but he’s still hard to please. “I would prefer it if we discussed business and skipped the pleasantries.” 

“But of course.” 

Daenerys is breaking her fast alone in her room per Viserys’s request. In order to have the conversation that needs to be had, his sister needs to be absent. He has thought over the best way to approach the subject long before he arrived in this time period. 

So, he gets right to it. 

“Last night, I got the feeling that our Khal is more interested in pillars and stones rather than...tinder boxes. Do you agree?” 

Illyrio nearly chokes on his wine, and Viserys has to hold in his laughter. The cunt didn’t think that he knew that, did he? 

Of course, his past self wouldn’t have caught on to it as dense as he is, but Viserys has done enough reading to know that Khal Drogo enjoyed the company of his riders far too much. He will bed Daenerys and give her a child for appearance’s sake but in his heart, he wishes to mount a man. 

“Your grace, how did you-” 

“Irrelevant,” Viserys says dismissively. “Tell me truthfully, will he accept me over my sister?”

“Perhaps. But you can not give him a son.” 

“That’s what whores are for. Am I wrong?” 

“He will want your sister for that.” 

Viserys clenches his jaw. “Daenerys is not to be touched,” he says, his tone venomous. “If you, with all of your intelligence and connections, can’t broker a deal where she’s excluded then what the hell kind of good are you? Do you wish to be in my favor when I reclaim my throne or not?” 

The man doesn’t give a single fuck about Viserys reclaiming his throne. He just wants Viserys to bleed in order for him to put his false prince on the throne with Daenerys by the boy's side. So, he will agree to remotely anything that makes that a reality. 

Illyrio bows his head. “I believe I can arrange something.” 

“Very good.” Viserys eats a piece of fig. 

A serving girl refills his goblet and Viserys thanks her. 

Both Illyrio and the serving girl give Viserys a strange look. Then he remembers that his past self wasn’t the thankful sort. 

Clearing his throat, he says, “I mean…” He picks up the goblet and throws the wine in the serving girl’s face, feeling like a real jackass the whole while. “I asked for Arbor gold, not cat piss, you filthy bitch!” He shouts. 

“Forgive her, your grace. She’s one of the dimwitted ones.” Illyrio barely masks his smile; he loves it when Viserys acts like his mad father because it assures him that the scam he’s running is for the good of the realm. “Go and fetch our king Arbor gold, girl.” 

Viserys wants to find her and apologize later but if he does that it’ll just stir suspicion and he doesn’t need that. 

Following his sit down with Illyrio, Viserys pays Daenerys a visit. The attire he has to wear is something to get used to. It’s not the tailored suits and designer clothes he prefers but the fabric is still expensive and he can grow accustomed to the tunics and jerkins. Soon, he’ll be wearing Dothraki garb. He’s not too thrilled about that. Brown is seriously not his color. 

“Sister,” he greets with a smile. “I was hoping we could walk along the beach today.” 

Daenerys blinks hard at him, startled by his politeness. She bows her head. “If that’s what you want. I...yes I would love to walk along the beach with you.” 

Gods, she’s terrified of him. 

Not that he can blame her. He knows that one day she outgrows this and becomes a woman who doesn’t take any shit from anyone, but the journey to that will be a long one. At the very least he will be there to support her. He isn’t here to make himself a better king. He’s here to ensure Daenerys and Jacaerys take their rightful thrones. 

“Shall we be off then?” he asks, offering her his arm. 

Daenerys accepts warily. 

She’s wearing a pretty periwinkle gown today, her long, silver-blonde hair falling down her back in waves. They have to keep out of sight when they’re walking about without a guard so they stick to the beach closest to the palace, out of sight. 

Of course, he suspects Illyrio has someone tailing them whenever they leave the palace. He could speak to her in Valyrian but this is Essos, not Westeros. Surely the spy would understand them. Viserys can’t share too much with her then. Not until they’re away from this place. 

Spotting a seashell in the sand, Viserys squats down to retrieve it. “It matches your dress,” he says. It has a pearl-like texture to it. “Here, you should have it.” 

Daenerys accepts the seashell with a smile. “You’re being awfully kind today, brother…” She glances at her feet. “I must admit it scares me.” 

“I understand that I have been...a downright cunt in the past-” 

Her head pops up and she stares at him with wide eyes. “No...no, of course, not. You’re a king. You can beha-” 

“Dany, stop doing that,” he says, his tone serious. “I know it’ll be hard for you to adjust to the way things will be moving forward but we have to start somewhere. Stop justifying my past actions. I was a cunt. I was terrible toward you and that was wrong. Moving forward, I will be a brother worthy of you.” 

“Are...do you wish to court me, Viserys?” 

_What in the fuck?_

Viserys chuckles nervously. “Excuse me?” he asks. 

Daenerys smiles, blushing faintly. “Is that why you won’t let me marry the Khal? Do you intend to make me your wife? You once said that we were meant to be married…” 

“Again, ignore everything I said in the past, Dany.” Seven hells this is not going how he expected. “One day you will marry a fine man. That man won’t be me, however.” 

“Okay.” Daenerys stares at the seashell. “How will you get your army then?” 

“ _Our_ army.” Your army, he wants to tell her but now isn’t the right time. “It’ll be our army sister. Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms alongside his sisters as equals. We shall do the same.” 

Daenerys looks at him with tears in her eyes as though he just said what she’s always wanted to hear. 

“Together?” she asks, hopeful. “We will take back what is yours... _ours_ together?” 

“Yes,” he says, smiling. “With fire and blood.” 

-o0o-

  
Daenerys makes a beautiful bride all things considered. 

Her wedding to Khal Drogo is a day-long event full of eating, drinking, fighting, and fucking. During the gift-giving ceremony, she’s given the dragon eggs, and they’re just as they were described in the scrolls that Viserys read. The color of the shells is meant to indicate the color of the dragon within; jade, pale cream, and black with scarlet ripples. 

He watches how his sister eyes the eggs closely, and he wonders if they are already speaking to her. 

When Jorah Mormont makes his appearance, Viserys scowls at the old knight. Here comes this cunt, he thinks.

He presents Daenerys with books that contain stories from Westeros. It amazes Daenerys to meet another person from Westeros and Viserys can tell that Jorah sees that as his opening. The knight makes a vague claim of where his loyalties lie that Viserys pays no mind to, on the inside.

Outwardly, he acknowledges the knight formally, allowing the old man to believe that he’s oblivious to his schemes. 

Jorah is the only reason why Viserys is going through all of this. He wants the man to send word back to Varys and let him know that Daenerys and Drogo have been wed. That way, the snakes in Westeros won’t know that it’s Viserys who will be warming the Khal’s bed. Daenerys is merely a shadow Khaleesi, in truth. But it’s Viserys who will remain in the shadows. 

Daenerys was informed of this only yesterday.

It was difficult finding a time when they could be completely alone. His sister was hesitant to agree at first out of fear that she was leaving Viserys to a cruel fate; she’s so damn considerate that it blows his mind that her true brother was so mean to her. But he assured her that this would be necessary. She promised him that she would play her part well and he has no doubt in her. 

If anything, Daenerys is a determined girl with an iron will. 

“The Khal will present young Daenerys with her gift and they will ride to the beach to...consummate their marriage.” Illyrio rubs his beard as he speaks softly. They’re standing off to the side, watching the wedding feast. “At least that is what his khalasar will believe. I have arranged safe passage for you to intercept them. Daenerys will remain in a nearby tent for the night to evade suspicion.” 

“Very good.” 

Viserys needs to get tipsy soon. He hasn’t bottomed in years. 

“Did you get what I requested?” Viserys asks. 

Illyrio digs in his pocket and retrieves a glass vial of oil. “I’m told it has a numbing effect to ease his passage.” 

“Thank the gods for that.” 

Once Drogo retrieves Daenerys and walks her over to the white mare, Viserys makes his way to the beach where he’s to spend his night with Drogo. He had a long swig of wine beforehand but he really wishes he had more.

As he’s departing, he catches sight of Jorah. Their eyes meet briefly. Thankfully, the knight seems too wrapped up in Daenerys to be of any concern to Viserys. 

Yet. 

He arrives at the tent first, giving himself enough time to wash off in the water and prep. 

Who would’ve thought that he would travel to the past and fuck a Dothraki horse lord for the sake of his family? Viserys thinks this is hands down in the top five of the gnarliest shit he’s ever done. 

He’s shoving a third finger inside when he hears a horse whinnying. Quickly removing his fingers, he pulls the thin robe over his body and stands.

Drogo enters the tent soon after, looking at Viserys as though he were a lamb for the slaughter. He can tell that the horse lord has been thinking about this moment ever since the agreement was made. Viserys knows that he’s pretty but Drogo looks downright enamored by him. 

Still, that doesn’t change the man's nature. Drogo is extremely rough which was expected, and although Viserys is nothing like his spineless counterpart, he doesn’t fight. If he reacts violently he could be killed. He will make the warlord warm up to him with time. 

For now, he’ll have to endure it.

* * *

_**298 AC - Daenerys, the Little Princess** _

Daenerys can’t help but feel a pang of guilt every time she sees her brother these days. 

The Khal visits Viserys every night when he thinks no one is looking, staying well into the morning, and sometimes he stops by during the day. Every time Viserys walks, he limps and winces. Whenever she asks him if he is fine, he gives her the warmest smile and assures her that he is. 

Who is that man, she wonders? That isn’t the Viserys she knows. 

The Viserys who sold their mother’s crown to feed them had long since shed any warmth he might’ve had in the past. Yet this Viserys is always kind to her. 

Even when he’s famished and his hands are bruised from days of riding he never lashes out at her or threatens to hit her. He reads to her as well and they speak in Valyrian when they don’t want anyone to know what they’re discussing. It feels as though she has a real brother now. 

“Khaleesi,” Irri, one of her handmaidens says, “Your brother has agreed to have dinner with you. He will be here shortly.” 

Daenerys smiles. “Thank you, Irri. I would like to eat with my brother alone. Please tell the others.” 

“Yes, Khaleesi.” 

She doesn’t deserve that title, she bitterly thinks. 

Yes, she engages with the khalasar and is slowly learning the language and culture but she isn’t the one keeping Drogo content. Viserys is the true Khaleesi. 

When Viserys arrives for dinner, she greets him with a hug. It still surprises her whenever he hugs her back, and she feels warm from her ears down to her toes whenever he kisses her forehead. It doesn’t matter, she thinks. It doesn’t matter if this is truly Viserys or not. She wants this person to always be at her side. 

“Did you prepare all of this yourself,” Viserys asks, looking at the food. 

“I had help. But I wanted to show you my gratitude.” Daenerys takes him by the hand, careful of his bandages, and escorts him to the rug. “Ser Jorah tells me that the khalasar will be journeying to Vaes Dothrak soon. Is that true?” 

They sit down on the rug and she pours him some wine. 

“Yes,” Viserys says, looking pleased. “I’ve convinced Drogo to seek the dosh khaleen to see if the odds favor war.” 

They’ve only been married for less than a month and yet…

“Brother, how did you manage that?” 

“Well, I used my skills, of course.” 

Curiously, Daenerys tilts her head. “Skills?” 

Viserys clears his throat. “Skills that you can’t learn until you’re much older. Preferably eight and ten.” 

Daenerys laughs. Her brother is so funny as of late. “Eight and ten? I will be an old woman by then!” 

“I do wonder how Ser Jorah is privy to the Khal’s plans…” 

Ser Jorah seems to be privy to a lot of things, honestly. Daenerys enjoys talking to the older man, but there are times when his many glances make her skin feel dirty. She wants to tell Viserys but she doesn’t want to bother him with trivial nonsense. However, there is something that has been bothering her. She waits until after they’ve eaten to bring it up. 

Walking over to her chest, she takes out one of the dragon eggs; the jade one. 

“Hold it,” she says, handing it over to Viserys. “Tell me what you feel.” 

Hesitantly, Viserys takes the egg. He marvels at the scales, his lilac eyes shining bright before dimming faintly. “I feel only the scales.” 

Could that mean that she’s the only one who feels heat when she touches the eggs? That can’t be, Viserys is the blood of the dragon just like her. 

“These are your eggs, Dany,” Viserys says, staring her square in the eyes. “It’s not meant for anyone else to feel what you feel when you touch them. Do you understand?” 

“I...I think so. Sometimes...I have dreams…” 

“About what?” 

Blinking, Daenerys shakes her head and laughs. “It’s nothing. Dreams are just dreams.” 

“Dreams hold powerful meaning, sister. Always keep that in mind.” 

Daenerys doesn’t miss the seriousness in his tone. She gives him her word. She takes the dragon egg back from him and carefully returns it to the chest. 

“Also, promise me you won’t go off by yourself with Jorah or any of the men around here. Always keep your handmaidens with you and never wander off too far.” 

“Of course, brother. Do not worry too much about me.” 

“I’ll always worry about you.” 

Daenerys feels like crying. 

This is all she’s ever wanted her brother to be. She prays this isn’t all false. She doesn’t know what changed in him or if he was perhaps switched out with someone else - she knows how absurd that sounds - but she has no complaints so far. She’s perfectly content with this Viserys. 

“I must leave,” Viserys says sadly. “Drogo will be visiting soon.” 

“Does...he hurt you badly?” 

“No.” 

Daenerys frowns. She may not be strong but she would fight for her brother. She walks up to him and takes his hands. “I have always depended on you. But you can depend on me, too. I am always here for you.” 

Smiling, Viserys kisses the back of her hand. “I know, Dany. You’re as fierce as Visenya.” 

“Oh, please.” Her cheeks burn hot. “From the stories you’ve told me, I could never live up to her greatness.” Or the greatness of any of her ancestors. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

Viserys wishes her a goodnight and Daenerys watches him leave. She stares at the flap of the tent long after he’s gone, wondering when her brother’s shoulder became so broad. 

* * *

_**298 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

The truth is, Viserys hasn’t bottomed since their first night together. 

One night of being pounded into a filthy cot was enough for him to turn in his “bottom card” permanently. The next time Drogo came to him, Viserys showed his true strength, and while the warlord was stunned, he got on his knees and sucked him off. While he did that, he put a finger in Drogo’s ass, and well, let’s just say that a new world was opened for the Khal.

The man is insatiable now. He loves it when Viserys yanks on his braid as he fucks him deeply. They never kiss though Drogo has tried before. Viserys isn’t really the romantic type and he personally finds Drogo to be insufferable. 

Seriously, if Viserys wasn’t fucking him cross-eyed frequently he would probably be nursing broken bones. He sees the way Drogo treats the women in the cities the Dothraki sack, and he knows Daenerys sees it too. His sister won’t stand for it long. She’s already been learning the language and spending hours with the women and helping them with daily chores. 

They adore her which is to be expected. 

Admittedly, Viserys was ignorant before coming here. He thought what Daenerys endured at the hands of Drogo in the past was essential to her growth. But she never needed to find her strength during a situation like that. She’s always been strong and bit by bit that strength is coming out. 

Turning his mind off temporarily, Viserys wraps Drogo’s braid around his fist and yanks the man’s head back. He bites Drogo's ear, rolling his hips to draw it out. The reason why he’s sore all the damn time is because Drogo has a lot of stamina. He has to fuck the man round after round for him to be satisfied. All of the thrusting and hair tugging is a serious workout. 

But Viserys has learned ways to make Drogo release faster. 

For instance, if he squeezes the man’s balls or degrades him that usually sends him over the edge quickly. 

“Fucking horse slut,” Viserys says in Valyrian even though Drogo can’t understand him. It’s the harshness in his tone that gets the man off. “I’ve fucked socks that have more life in them than you do.” 

Drogo cums with a roar, his seed spilling on the cot. Viserys fucks him through it until he finds his own pleasure. Once it’s over, they soak together in a tub of hot water. 

“How long until we reach Vaes Dothrak?” Viserys asks in Dothraki. He spent months learning the language before coming here but sometimes he pretends to not be as fluent in it. 

Drogo washes Viserys’s hair affectionately. “I wish I could put a baby in you,” he says. 

Viserys clenches his asshole in response and fights back a scowl. Please, does this man truly love him already? He knows his sex is great but damn. 

“Well, you can’t.” And thank the old gods and the new for that. “You will have plenty of children running around soon.” At the rate Drogo's going, he’ll be able to have a separate khalasar full of his kids. “All I can give you is my body...and my heart. You promised to give me an army in return.” 

Drogo kisses his cheek. “I will give you more than that,” he says gruffly. “I will give you the world, moon of my life.” 

_Ew, gross. A pet name._

“Now that’s what I like to hear," Viserys says, pretending to be pleased. 

Viserys feels Drogo's hardness against his back and he sighs. Tonight will be another long night. 

-o0o-

  
In time, those long nights dwindle in frequency.

Following the journey to Vaes Dothrak, Drogo begins the war preparations which include sacking cities for their wealth, abducting women to warm the beds of his riders, and leaving utter disaster in his wake. 

Reading about all this doesn’t come close to actually witnessing it. A few times, Viserys had to excuse himself to his tent to get away from the chaos. Even though he is here to intervene and change the future, there are some things that he can’t tamper with. 

The Dothraki have to sack these cities, Daenerys has to see the ugliness of subjugation and war in order for her to become the woman who breaks chains and liberates cities. The witch, Mirri Maz Duur, has to kill Khal Drogo and give them fuel for the ritual that’s necessary in order to hatch Dany’s eggs. 

Daenerys has been having dreams. He always catches her staring off into flames blankly. He knows that they are speaking to her, guiding her. She’s even started to keep the dragon eggs on heated coal day and night. 

When they get the chance to have dinner, he tells her stories of their ancestors in hopes that she’ll discover what must be done through their family’s past achievements and mistakes. 

Viserys is only leaving her bread crumbs and ensuring the outside world doesn’t interfere. As for the rest, Daenerys is filling in the blanks on her own. She’s intelligent and perceptive. 

While they were in Vaes Dothrak, Viserys pretended to be drunk and let it slip that Daenerys was in the early stages of her pregnancy to Jorah Mormont. As of late, his sister has been wearing extra layers and pretending to be unwell in order to keep up with the ruse. 

Viserys has to hand it to the girl. She’s one hell of an actress. 

Jorah does what two-faced bastards do and sends a raven to King’s Landing, to King Robert, informing them of the news. A month later, while they’re in the market, a wine seller tries to poison Daenerys. According to history, it was Jorah who saved her from that attempt. 

This time around Viserys makes sure he’s the one to expose the assassin. The old man, Jorah, is gradually falling in love with Daenerys so his betrayals will end soon enough, but when the time comes Viserys wants his sister to have no reason to keep the knight around for good. 

Viserys doesn’t like the man. He doesn’t like how his eyes follow his sister. But Jorah has his role to play. 

It was Daenerys’s desire to drag the would-be-assassin behind her horse but Viserys convinces her to keep the man as a prisoner. 

Jorah tries to fight him on the matter, of course, and Viserys wins. 

His reason for doing so is simple. A life must pay for a life. 

“Drogo is dying,” Viserys says to Daenerys one night; on _the_ night. “He’s dying and everyone knows it.” 

Earlier that day, Drogo fell off of his horse in front of his khalasar. At the sight of that his bloodriders were outraged. Some of them have already fled with the bulk of the khalasar. A Khal who can’t sit up on his own horse is no Khal at all, it is their belief. 

“That witch, she poisoned him,” Viserys says, not bothering to shed tears. His sister knows he never loved Drogo, and she’s far from stupid. “Now most of our army is gone…” 

It’s been a few shorts months but Daenerys has already changed so much. She stands taller now, she doesn’t flinch away from anyone, and she’s never hesitant to speak her mind with him. 

They’re standing on top of a hill staring down at the dwindling khalasar. Viserys knew that this would never be the people to join them when they sailed to Westeros, and a part of him knows Daenerys has realized the same. Yet she’s never stopped caring for all of them or being an active part of their lives. She’s remained a Khaleesi to the end. 

“All is not lost, brother,” she says, resolute. “Drogo is not dead yet, is he?” 

Viserys looks over at her, reading her eyes. “No. I assume he has another day or two left.” 

“In the flames...I always hear a voice…” Daenerys turns her still gaze to where Mirri Maz Duur is chained to a wooden post awaiting her punishment. The woman poisoned Drogo’s cut that she was meant to heal per Daenerys’s orders. “We have the witch, the man who tried to poison me...we need a third. A life must pay for a life…” 

Great. So, he doesn’t have to waste time convincing her to go along with what he’s been planning this whole time. He wanted Jorah to be one of the sacrifices but it’s not the man’s time to die. 

“I know of a tonic that can still Drogo's heart but it won’t kill him.” 

Daenerys nods solemnly. “Do what you must, brother. I am with you.” 

More of the khalasar abandon them at the news of Drogo’s death. One of his bloodriders tries to kill Daenerys but Jorah interferes and slays the man instead. 

On the night they burn Drogo on the pyre, Viserys chains the wine seller and Mirri to the pyre. He places the dragon eggs in Drogo’s arms per Daenerys’s request. His sister has second thoughts in regard to Mirri considering she’s a victim, but it’s the magic the woman holds that’s essential to the ritual. Daenerys requests that Viserys give her the same tonic he gave Drogo to ease her suffering so he does. 

His sister understands the sacrifices that must be made in order for them to rise again. He’s glad that she’s realizing this on her own. 

“Khaleesi, please,” Jorah begs when Daenerys walks toward the burning pyre. “Don’t do this. This is madness. Please!” He looks at Viserys, his eyes pleading. “Don’t just stand there. Stop her!” 

Viserys says nothing. 

“Princess, please,” Jorah cries. "What of your babe?" 

“Queen,” Daenerys says, looking over at Viserys for reassurance. “I am your queen now.” 

With wide eyes, Jorah looks over at Viserys who simply nods. 

“It will be alright,” Daenerys tells the old man. She walks toward the flames with more bravery than any knights or bloodriders. "I've lost the babe already," she says, still in character. She's truly remarkable. 

Viserys’s heart tightens in his chest as he experiences a sliver of doubt. He knows that he’s put everything into place perfectly and he knows that Daenerys is destined to bring about a new era. Still, seeing his young sister walk into a burning pyre is worrying. He chokes on a sob when the flames engulf her. But he remains strong. Not for himself. But for her. 

A few more people leave once Daenerys disappears into the flames. Viserys stares at the fire until his eyes dry out and ache. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t even sit down. He stands there all night, waiting. 

After some time, Jorah collapses on the ground and sobs. It’s weird to think about how much the man loves his sister. Viserys wants to flay him so badly. 

Before coming here, he had to remind himself of the feudalistic society and the standards for marriage. By all rights of this society, Daenerys is a woman capable of marrying and fucking whomever she likes. But Viserys is applying his own brotherly law to the situation. His little sister is off-limits. End of discussion. 

Hours pass.

The sun is beginning to rise when Viserys blinks hard and realizes that the fire is no longer lit. Only burnt remains of the pyre and smoke remain. Swallowing hard, he approaches slowly. His legs are stiff and he feels as if he’s going to faint at any moment, but his body isn’t allowed to shut down until he knows for sure. 

Seeing a hunched over form amidst the ruin, Viserys orders his feet to move faster. At the sound of his approach, a head lifts. Gone are the long, silver tresses. Gone is the scared little girl. 

Daenerys sits in the center of the pyre, skin covered in scorch marks, bald, and cradling something in her arms. Then Viserys sees a tiny creature on her shoulder turn its head toward him. 

His eyes water as Daenerys slowly stands. 

One whelp is in her arms, the other curled around her leg, and another perched on her shoulder. Behind him, Jorah gasps in shock, and the remaining khalasar rise to their feet to witness the miracle. 

The dragon on her shoulder spreads its wings and lets out a tiny screech. 

“Holy fuck,” Viserys mutters.

* * *

_**300 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

Scowling, Viserys holds the Qartheen dress up to his chest. “You definitely won’t be wearing this one,” he says. “I won’t have my kid sister walking around with her bloody tit out.” 

Daenerys laughs from where she’s lying on the large bed surrounded by piles of fine fabric and jewelry from many suitors and admirers. All of Meereen seems to be enamored by the young dragon queen, especially after she successfully secured her rule here. 

It wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish. In the shadows, Viserys had to tap into some seriously dark magic to flush out the Sons of the Harpy and stubborn slavers. A few years of his lifespan were cut in exchange. But it was worth it. They’re finally in a solid position of power. Word of the dragon queen and king have spread like wildfire throughout the known world. 

Still, there is a long way to go. 

“I will be five and ten tomorrow,” Daenerys says with a slight pout. “I am a woman, Viserys. I have been for some time.” 

“Five and ten doesn’t sound like eight and ten to me.” Viserys folds the gown and tosses it aside carelessly. He picks out another gown and examines it. “This one should be fine. It’s lilac. It’ll bring out your eyes.” 

Daenerys rolls over to her back, staring at the canopy, sighing loudly. These days she’s always staring off into space and sighing as though she were in love. Just today, he knocked her sword from her hand during their lessons thrice because she was too distracted. 

A year ago, he placed a glass candle in her bedroom in hopes that she would connect with Jacaerys. Perhaps that is the cause of her behavior. 

“Have you ever been in love, brother?” she asks as they’re heading to the feast that’s being held to celebrate her upcoming nameday. She’s wearing the lilac gown he picked out for her and a jade tiara adorns her head. Her silver-blonde hair stops at the top of her shoulders now. 

Viserys is wearing a white and gold Ghiscari tokar, his hair is much longer now and he wears it in a low ponytail. “Once,” he says truthfully. “A long time ago.” 

“With a woman or a man?” 

“A woman.” 

Daenerys raises an eyebrow at that. “So...so you do like women too?” 

“I like beautiful people,” he says, chuckling. 

His sister smiles brightly at him. “And you always tell me that I’m beautiful…” 

“Daenerys, the sun couldn’t match your brilliance.” He means every word of it. His sister is the most beautiful person in the world which is why he’s exhausted from keeping all of these gross men away from her.

They reach the entrance to the grand hall where the feast is already underway. The scent of meat roasting on the fire, peppers, and other spices waft to his nostrils, making his hunger all the more apparent. Viserys hasn’t enjoyed a feast since he’s been here as he’s been on high alert all the time to ensure Daenerys’s safety but he thinks he may indulge tonight. 

Glancing over at his sister he notices the awestruck expression on her face as she stares at him. He inwardly curses. He knows what that look means. Daenerys is falling for him. 

“Your guests are waiting for you,” he says, gently tugging her into the hall. 

At their appearance, everyone cheers. Soon, Daenerys is whisked away by people hoping to wish her a happy nameday and present their gifts to her. Viserys finds some wine and gulps it all down.

He swears on his life that he isn’t intentionally wooing his sister nor does he desire her in that way. 

Viserys just thinks that she’s been alone for a long time. Even when his other self was with her, she really didn’t have anyone to depend on or talk to. Now that she has him, her feelings for him are all over the place. She’s also at a weird age. He knows that she’s curious, too. He once overheard her asking one of her handmaidens about bed sport. 

Fuck, it’s as if he’s raising a child. Actually, it’s like he’s raising two daughters. There’s a little scribe from Naath, Missandei, who operates as a royal translator. She’s only nine so at night she’s to stay in her chamber with Unsullied outside her door. 

Between Missandei and Daenerys, the latter causes him the most stress. 

He wants to tell Daenerys that on the other side of the world there is another who feels the same as she does, who shares a similar path as her. He wants to tell her that her other half exists and that she will meet him soon, but Viserys can’t outright reveal that. 

The only thing he can do is nudge her in the right direction as he’s certain that an unseen force is guiding Jacaerys to her as well. 

Throughout the night, Viserys gets approached by women and some men who desire him. Sometimes it slips his mind that he’s just as desirable as Daenerys is. It’s not that he isn’t a vain person at times; he definitely is. It’s just that, he’s so focused on protecting his sister that he hasn’t really paid that much attention to himself. 

And for good reason, too. 

Disregarding a very beautiful woman with copper skin and golden eyes, Viserys watches as Jorah and Daenerys take one of the many side doors out of the grand hall. 

Jorah fucking Mormont. 

Viserys has been waiting for the infamous raven to arrive from King’s Landing, the one that pardons Jorah of his past offenses and exposes him as Robert’s rat. 

If his memory serves correctly, this is the year that many things transpire; he’s dying for news of Tywin Lannister’s death to reach them so that he can laugh. This is also the year Aemon Targaryen dies. It saddens him that fate has long decided that they are to never meet the man nor is Daenerys supposed to learn of his existence through him. 

Barristan Selmy, well Arstan Whitebeard, isn’t fond of Jorah and has been suspicious of him from the start. Daenerys may have a fondness for Jorah but it's apparent that she prefers Selmy more; probably because the man looks at her and sees his queen, not a potential lover. 

The raven was meant to be the final nail in Jorah’s coffin, but Viserys believes tonight will be the night he can finally get rid of the man. Wasting no time, he follows after them.

* * *

_**300 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons** _

In her dreams, he’s always kind to her. Although she’s never seen his face, she knows that he’s handsome and young. Daenerys likes to imagine that his hair is full and healthy, not balding and dying like the old man who is currently professing his love for her. 

In her dreams, he never approaches her first, always allowing her to set the boundaries. He listens to her and she listens to him. She tells herself that his voice is strong and full of authority even though it’s always distorted in her dreams. Why can’t she see his face or hear his voice clearly?

“Khaleesi,” Jorah is saying, his words slurred, his breath smelling of strong wine. “You are...everything a man could ever hope for in a woman…” 

Daenerys presses her back closer to the cold, stone wall. She will thank him and deny him politely to spare him humiliation. Jorah, for all of his faults, has been loyal to her from the start and has journeyed a great distance, through hardship after hardship just to be by her side. 

Although she has never felt an inkling of attraction toward him, she won’t be mean to him. It takes courage to do what he’s doing. But to get through this, she thinks of the man in her dreams. 

How would he profess his love to her? Would he wait until he was drunk to do it? She hopes not. 

“I am honored to be by your side.” Jorah leans forward, settling his calloused hands on her arms, his grip tight. “But a deep passion for you burns inside of me that I can no longer ignore.” 

“Ser Jorah, please, understand that I am your queen-” 

“I know that!” he says, raising his voice. He’s never raised his voice at her. He’s definitely drunk. “Why do you think I’ve abandoned my home for you?” 

Frowning, Daenerys looks at his face. “You...you were exiled. I had nothing to do with that, ser.” 

Jorah presses close to her, his hot breath fanning her face. “I gave up everything to be with you.” He kisses her, trying to force his tongue into her mouth. 

Vision burning red, Daenerys raises her hand high and brings it down hard on his face. He’s woken the dragon with his unforgivable behavior. 

“How dare you assault me, your queen, Ser Jorah!” she says, her voice loud and stern. “I do not desire you, ser. I never have. I never will!” 

“Khaleesi-” 

“Assaulting your liege is treason.” 

Daenerys and Jorah turn their heads to see Viserys walking toward them, his eyes ablaze.

Relief floods her at the sight of her brother. 

Although she put on a brave face, there was a small part of her that worried Jorah would react violently. Her dragons would come to her aid but they’d burn this pyramid to save her and she couldn’t risk countless lives because one, small man decided to act like a fool. 

Jorah looks at Daenerys, his eyes pleading. She moves away from the man, going to her brother’s side. Soon, the hall is flooded with Unsullied. They would’ve been here sooner but she used to always reassure them that when she was with Jorah she was safe. She hates how stupid she was. 

“Take Ser Jorah into custody,” Daenerys orders. “Since he wants to behave like a criminal he will be treated as such. I believe the dungeons shall do nicely.” 

Jorah screams for her to reconsider, he begs for her forgiveness, and he asks for mercy. Daenerys links her arms with Viserys’s, using some of his strength to keep her from turning back. If she relents, the others will deem her weak. If she relents Jorah will think he can approach her as he pleases in the future. 

“You did the right thing, sister,” Viserys says. “Jorah swore a vow to protect you. He swore to be an honorable knight yet he dishonored you.” 

“I know,” she says. Feeling suddenly ill, she tugs on his arm like she used to do as a child. “Can you walk me to my chamber? I’ve had enough feasting tonight.” 

Daenerys thinks of visiting with Missandei but she doesn’t want to wake the girl. Instead, she asks Viserys to stay with her for a little while. She doesn’t want to be alone right now. What will it mean for them to be without Ser Jorah, she wonders. They’ll be going to war for the throne soon so she’ll need all of her key players. Did she set herself up for failure just now? 

She voices her concerns to Viserys. 

“Jorah has served his purpose, sister,” Viserys says. “He isn’t the only person with knowledge of Westeros nor is he the only strategist in our ranks. We will do fine without him.” 

“His purpose?” 

“We all have our role to play.” 

“Are you just playing a role?” she asks. She sits on the bed and he sits beside her. 

“In a way. You are as well.” 

“Can I trust you to never betray me?” 

“Dany, everything I do is to ensure you succeed.” 

“ _Us_ ,” she says. “Everything you do should be to ensure we both succeed.” 

“Of course.” 

Daenerys asks him to stay with her until she falls asleep. He lounges on the chaise near her bed as he tells her stories about Daemon, the Rogue Prince. Among the many tales about her ancestors, these are some of her favorites. Viserys’s voice lulls her to sleep. 

And when she sleeps she dreams of the man whose face she’s never seen and whose voice she can never make out clearly. Instead of sitting in a meadow of blue flowers with him, she’s standing in blood-stained snow while a wolf howls sadly in the distance. A figure is lying in the snow, bleeding out. 

The dream is a bad omen for tragedy to come.   
.

.

* * *

_**303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons** _

  
Smiling to herself, Daenerys watches the two men spar with spears below. 

Although the winter winds are blowing in Westeros, the Dornish air is still hot and sticky. For comfort, Daenerys wears a thin-strapped, burgundy dress made from Myrish lace. Her back, arms, and thighs are visible. Although her hair did grow back to its full length, several inches were singed during their most recent battle. 

They’ve only been in Dorne for less than a week and her brother has already found a new conquest it would seem. As always, he has impeccable tastes. The Bastard of Godsgrace is handsome and a formidable fighter by the look of it. 

Viserys is nothing to bat an eye at either. 

With the assistance of Ser Barristan, he’s become a skilled swordsman, and with Grey Worm’s help, he’s a competent spearman as well. In Meereen, they trained in the yard together under Barristan's tutelage. It was Viserys who suggested that they both learn how to fend for themselves rather than relying on the dragons all the time. 

Daenerys wonders where she would be without Viserys. 

Whenever she vocally expresses that to him, he assures her that she would’ve found her way without him. Regardless, she’s fortunate that she had him by her side all of this time. 

They’ve had quite the journey up until this point. From being captured by malevolent warlocks to putting down several rebellions to freeing slaves and obtaining armies, including a new khalasar, to giving a creepy pirate the slip to taming dragons. The latter would’ve taken longer had it not been from the aid of tonics. Because of this, the dragons grew faster. 

It took her a day for her to tame Drogon, the larger of the three. While it took Viserys a week to tame the dragon with his namesake, Viserion. That only one left was Rhaegal, named after their noble older brother, Rhaegar, who fell at the Trident long before she was born. 

“My queen,” Ser Barristan says from behind her. Despite his old and haggard appearance, she doesn’t know a finer swordsman. “Princess Arianne is ready to meet with you.” 

“I see. Is Missandei still swimming with the other children?” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

“Good.” 

Daenerys gives Viserys a final look before she leaves to see what the Princess of Dorne has decided on. She knows in her gut what Arianne will request of her. She knew it the moment the woman laid eyes on Viserys. 

The princess hopes to marry her brother. She wouldn’t be the first to desire such a thing. When they were in Meereen several noblewomen sent their fathers to make a match, and each one was denied by Viserys himself. 

“I have no intention of marrying,” he told Daenerys a while back. “I am only here to see my family thrive for once.” 

At the time she was annoyed when he said that.

Because the truth is, Daenerys has always thought that she and Viserys would marry. They are the last of their bloodline so to her it’s the only sensible decision. She turned eight and ten a month ago, making her old enough to marry whomever she wishes. And she wishes to marry Viserys. 

She even dreams of Viserys. 

Well, she thinks she does. She never sees the man’s face but whenever she dreams of him her nights are peaceful. The dreams started after Viserys suggested she sleep with a dragon glass candle in her bedroom. She’s long learned to never question her brother’s suggestions. He’s never led her astray. 

She dreams of the mysterious man more often these days, and the other night they even kissed. 

Thinking about the kiss makes Daenerys’s face heat up. She’s never had a real kiss before. Well, Jorah did kiss her that one time without her permission. She slapped him so hard her hand throbbed for hours. But aside from that, no one has ever kissed her. 

Daenerys tried to kiss Viserys when he was drunk once, but it felt wrong to do so while he was out of it so she stopped herself and never tried again. To this day she feels guilty about it. 

“My queen,” Arianne says with a bow of her head. She knows it’s difficult for the proud woman to address her as such. “I know you grow tired of sitting in musty rooms so I was hoping we could visit the orange grove.” 

Daenerys smiles. “I would love to.” 

She actually likes Arianne a lot. The woman is beautiful, bold, and has a wicked sense of humor. Her father, Doran, recently died from gout, and Arianne rightfully took her place as the Lady of Sunspear.

They had been corresponding via raven for almost a year, careful not to alert any spies before they left Meereen for Dorne. Daenerys wanted to head straight to Dragonstone but Viserys advised her that Dorne should be their first stop. So here they are. 

“I am told the pretender is en route to King’s Landing with an impressive host,” Arianne says as they walk down rows and rows of orange trees. 

Daenerys loves the smell of fresh fruit and clean air. She hates that she has to ruin the atmosphere with the talk of war. But that’s the reason why she’s here. 

“I am glad that you did not fall prey to the pretender’s lies and choose the wrong side.” 

Arianne smiles sheepishly, her pretty brown eyes sad. “I must admit I almost did. I had Elia and her babes on my mind. I thought that there was a chance that my cousin was alive.” 

“I understand. I, too, believed him at first. But I dug deeper into my family’s history and into the history of Varys and Illyrio in order to uncover the truth.” 

“You are very wise.” 

“I have great advisors,” she says fondly. 

Arianne smiles. “You know what it is I want. Don’t you?” 

“I do. However, my brother and I share power. I cannot command him to marry you or anyone. A king will take whomever he likes as a wife.” 

“But you can convince him that it’s a smart decision to make.” 

Daenerys knows that. She doesn’t really want to, though. This time around she should be the one married off to secure something for them. Viserys endured Drogo in her place. Now she must return the favor. 

Swallowing hard, she says, “Your brother Quentyn has returned from his journey, yes?” There isn’t a single part of her that desires the man but they need Dorne on their side. 

Arianne laughs. “Either you want to fuck your brother that badly or you’re blind. Quentyn, seriously?” 

Years ago, Daenerys would’ve flushed and fluttered at the mere suggestion of her wanting to fuck her brother. Now, she hardly blinks. As she said, she’s read into her family’s history; she knows of The Doctrine of Exceptionalism. They are not like mortal men and women. If they wish to fuck one another so be it. 

“Who is to say I couldn’t still fuck Viserys if you two were married?” Daenerys asks just to toy with the woman. 

“I’m all for it. Two Targaryens in my bed…” She fans herself. “I’d be the luckiest woman in the world.” 

Despite herself, Daenerys laughs. “I know that a marriage alliance is a sure way to build a strong bond between our houses. Perhaps we can find another way around this. Viserys is a co-ruler so his place is in Westeros.” By her side. “You are a princess of Dorne so your place is here. A wedding may seem like the best fit but future complications could arise.” 

“What else do you suggest, your grace?” 

“Our future children could be wed, we could broker a better trade agreement in the meantime.” 

“Future children hm.” Arianne’s look is contemplative. “Does that mean you intend to marry soon. I have many suitors to choose from if that’s the case.” 

Daenerys thinks of the mystery man from her dreams first and then she thinks of Viserys. 

“By now word of my stay here has reached Cersei’s ears and the ears of other lords,” Daenerys says. “I am certain there will be plenty of marriage offerings to come.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Arianne says, giving Daenerys a once over. “We will need collateral if for some reason either of us is incapable of bearing children…” 

Daenerys knows the woman is hinting at the rumors that have been spread about her. Thanks to Jorah’s past betrayal, word spread of her being with child. Of course, she wasn’t really with child. It was all a part of a scheme. But it is believed that she miscarried while starving in the red waste all of those years ago. 

Then the slavers in the Free cities spread more lies about her. They said that she had a new lover in her bed every night and that she drank moon tea by the gallon to prevent any pregnancies to a point that she was incapable of conceiving. 

“I am hoping that I can trust you, Lady Arianne.” Daenerys sees no problem in being truthful about this matter as the information can’t be used against her. Her current khalasar has no loyalty to Drogo and she’s shown them her strength so if they did somehow learn the truth, they would continue to follow her. “The truth is, I was only a Khaleesi in name. Drogo and I never consummated our marriage.” 

Arianne’s mouth drops open. “But you were with child…” 

“I only pretended to be. I was three and ten at the time. Despite my moon blood, I was not ready to be a wife fully. Viserys recognized that and...my brother did what was necessary to protect my virtue.” 

“So, your maidenhead remains intact. You swear on your dragons?” 

Daenerys won’t find insult with the woman’s disbelief. Like her, Arianne has reason to be untrustworthy toward certain people. “It may have broken from horse riding or perhaps even riding Drogon for most of our journey west, but it has never been broken by any man. I swear that on my own life.”

Arianne just stares at her mouth agape. 

“You don’t believe me,” Daenery says, her disappointment apparent. 

“No, I do believe you. I’m just stunned that’s all. You’re so...so beautiful and...sensual. I assumed-” 

“That I had all the experience of a Lyseni bed slave?” 

Arianne blushes. “I have a bad habit of making assumptions,” she says. “Please forgive me, your grace.” 

“There’s nothing to forgive. With that understood, do you believe we could set the agreement in stone?” 

“If our child is the same sex…” 

“Do you intend to only have one child? And if we both have boys only or girls only, we could foster them or make other matches. Quentyn may have a seat on my small council as well.” 

They can agree to anything. Anything but the marriage between Arianne and Viserys. 

And Arianne seems to understand that. 

“We can discuss this further with our advisors present,” the princess says. “I am certain that we can come to an agreement.” 

“I do hope so.” 

“If I may, when do you intend to leave for King's Landing?” 

“That all depends on the pretender,” Daenerys says. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

When Viserys set off for this time-jumping journey, he knew that once he returned to his time that things would be completely different depending on the outcome of this war. He knew that there was a chance he would never see his family again, and although it saddened him greatly, he knew that this journey was necessary for the grand scheme of things. 

Over the years he’s remained in contact with his siblings with the aid of dragonglass candles but only to update them on his progress. He hasn’t seen their faces since the day he left. His main source of comfort has been watching Daenerys grow from a scared little girl to a conqueror. 

They've endured plenty of hardships and betrayals together but they’ve always managed to come out on top, stronger than they were before. 

Viserys also has his own dragon!

The first time he mounted Viserion he nearly cried. He never imagined that he would ever get to experience anything like that. Whenever he and Daenerys take flight together, it makes his heart swell with pride and also bitter remorse because there are only three Targaryens left in this world.

It’s truly a pity. 

Even from where he is in the palace, he can feel his dragon’s heat. They’re bonded to one another. Until Viserys dies or leaves, of course. One could even say that they share one mind. 

He’s put on muscle during his time here and his hair has grown well past his shoulders. Ser Barristan even says that Viserys favors Rhaegar more and more each day. 

Wait until the old man meets Rhaegar’s son. 

“They call him the White Wolf,” Daemon Sand says to him one day after sparring together. He’s handsome, with a strong jaw, sky blue eyes, and light sandy brown hair. He has a close-cropped beard, and dimples appear when he smiles. For the past month, he and Daemon have met every morning to spar with spears. There have even been some nights that they’ve shared drinks together and jested. “I hear he rose from the dead and retook his family’s ancestral home all in the same month.” 

By now Daenerys should be meeting with Barristan and the old man will be telling her the same thing Daemon is telling him now. Finally, the time has come for Daenerys and Jacaerys to meet. 

“Do you believe that?” Viserys asks. “About him returning from the dead?” He doesn’t know why he cares so much about what Daemon thinks. 

Daemon looks up at the sky where the dragons are circling above. “I tend to believe a lot of bizarre things these days.” 

“Do you want to see them up close?” 

Swallowing hard, Daemon looks at Viserys. “Is this a trick?” he asks. 

“If I wanted you dead Daemon a dragon is a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“You are a Targaryen.” 

“Okay, true. But do you want to see my mount up close or not? While you’re with me, you’ll be safe.” 

Daemon nods. 

Dorne doesn’t have the best history with dragons the same way their family doesn’t have the best history with scorpions, but that is behind them now. The dragons seem to prefer to stay away from Sunspear for whatever reason, keeping to the red hills beyond the palace. In truth, they don’t seem too fond of Dorne at all. 

Daemon once said it's because the dragons could sense the tragedy that befell Rhaenys the Conqueror and her mount, Meraxes here. A part of Viserys believes that to be true. He once read that Queen Alysanne tried to ride Silverwing past the Wall at Castle Black thrice but the dragon refused. 

“You can come closer,” Viserys says, looking over his shoulder at the brave knight who looks as if he wants to bolt. He pets a small part of Viserion’s snout. 

The dragons are massive now with Drogon nearing Balerion’s full size as each month passes. Even with his knowledge of the modern world, Viserys has trouble describing how big they truly are. To put it in perspective, only one dragon can occupy a single red hill at a time, and even then they are too large. Viserion is resting at the base of one of the hills while his brothers continue to fly.

Out of the three, Viserion is the prettiest. No, he’s not saying that because this is his dragon. It’s simply true.

The dragon’s scales are cream, but his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest are gold-colored. His teeth are shining black daggers, his claws are black, and his sharp eyes are two pools of molten gold. When he releases his flame, whatever poor creature in his path is consumed by a mixture of pale gold, red, and orange flames.

“He’s magnificent,” Daemon whispers, still keeping his distance. “I’ve always thought so when I saw them from afar but up close like this is truly an experience.”

Sighing, Viserys walks over to Daemon, taking him by the hand. “A lot of people can’t stand this close to a dragon and live to talk about it. You have a chance that you should seize.” He stands behind Daemon, guiding his hand toward Viserion’s snout. “If he senses fear he won’t like you.” 

At that Daemon stills his trembling hand, his shoulders squaring. Viserys smiles to himself. 

Daemon sighs when he touches the dragon. “He’s very hot…” 

“He’s a fire-breathing dragon, Daemon.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

“Brave of you to be rude to a rider in front of his mount.” 

Daemon turns and looks at him, their faces a mere inches apart. “Brave of you to stand so close to a knight as skilled as I.” He bumps the hilt of a dagger against Viserys’s stomach lightly. “I could kill you before he burned me.” 

Viserys glances at Daemon’s lips, not bothered in the slightest by the threat. They both know that it’s empty. “Would the painful death by dragon fire be worth it?” he asks quietly. 

“Depends.” 

“On?” 

Daemon licks his lips. 

Usually, Viserys prefers not to kiss anyone; he doesn’t really care for kissing. But he wants to kiss Daemon. He’s wanted to kiss him for some time now. Unfortunately, the gods don't want him to kiss Daemon it would seem. 

Viserion raises his head, signaling at a newcomer, and Daemon and Viserys break away quickly. A messenger from the palace rides up to them shortly after. 

“The queen requests an audience with you, your grace,” the messenger says to Viserys. “A raven from Winterfell has arrived.” 

His nephew is making moves faster than Viserys anticipated. Well, if nothing else, he seems to be a man about his business just like his father. Viserys gives the messenger his leave then he looks at Daemon. 

“Can I see you later?” Viserys asks. “Tonight?” 

“It sounds like you have more important matters to attend to, your grace.” 

“Oh, don’t give me that shit. You know that I’m flexible.” 

Daemon gives him a coy smile. “We should return to the palace. Your sister needs you.” 

The knight is playing hard to get or perhaps he’s playing smart. Whatever the case may be, Viserys won’t push. He tends to get what he wants eventually, and he really wants this man for a reason he can’t explain, so he’ll just be patient. 

They return to the palace together but go their separate ways once they arrive. Daemon goes in search of Arianne and Viserys goes to where he knows Daenerys and the others are waiting. 

Among her group of advisors are himself, Barristan Selmy, the Commander of her Unsullied, Grey Worm, and the Dothraki representative, Qhono who has been learning the common tongue from Missandei, who also taught Grey Worm. The young girl is very bright and capable for her age. 

Jorah Mormont is in exile for his past betrayals and for trying to force himself on Daenerys one night after too many cups of wine. Viserys wanted him dead, but his sister still has a kind heart. Tyrion Lannister is currently their prisoner. The imp tried to sweet-talk his way into his sister’s graces but Viserys warned her of him long before he showed his horrid little face to them in Meereen. 

When Viserys enters the meeting room, everyone minus Daenerys stands to greet him. He takes his seat at the opposite end of the long table, across from his sister. 

“A raven was sent from Winterfell,” Viserys says, wasting no time. “What was the news?” 

Daenerys won’t meet his gaze. He looks to Barristan for an answer. 

The old man sighs heavily. “The...King in the North wishes to broker an alliance with our queen...through marriage.” 

Finally. 

Finally, everything is falling into place. For years he’s been dropping hints to his sister that the war for the throne was far from the end of it all, that there was a larger threat they had to face. It’s the threat that Rhaegar foresaw. Jacaerys is the final key to their victory. He’s the third head of the dragon. 

“We need the north,” Viserys says, looking at Daenerys who refuses to meet his gaze. “A marriage would secure the north for us.” 

“He’s a bastard,” Daenerys says as if she has ever cared about anything like that. “He broke his vows to the Night’s Watch, making him an oathbreaker, as well.” 

“Our sources tell us that he died, your grace,” Barristan says, frowning. “Only death can break a vow. As strange as these resurrection tales are, everyone present here has witnessed their fair share of strangeness.” 

Viserys knows his sister. He knows she won't be easily moved. “At the very least meet with him,” he says. Once the two meet, everything will happen naturally. “We’ll find a neutral location so that you two may meet comfortably and see if a marriage would be the best course of action.” 

“What if the pretender and his forces set their eyes on Dorne while I’m off courting?” she asks with a roll of her eyes. “We are in the middle of a war, brother.” 

“He would have to be an utter fool to meet us in Dorne. No outsider is foolish enough to fight in these lands.” Only a Targaryen is foolish and brave enough to do so, and this False Aegon is not cut from the same cloth as them. “Meet with this King in the North first then decide, then and there, if you wish to take him as a husband. The choice is solely up to you.” 

Daenerys scrunches her nose faintly. He’s the only one to notice it. “What is this Jon Snow person even like? Don’t feed me the tall tales, either. I want to know who he was before his miraculous resurrection and heroic battle against the Boltons.” 

“We do not know much about him, your grace,” Barristan says. “He’s the bastard son of Eddard Stark, his mother is unknown, and he was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch before his own men murdered him. He's been leading a host of wildlings throughout the north for the past two years. I believe he aimed to stabilize the war-torn region before seeking out alliances. Of course, that is a mere assumption. We know nothing of his character or true ambitions." 

“I believe the imp may know more about him,” Viserys says, using nothing more than his knowledge of the future. “I will pay him a visit and see what he knows.”

He’s going to pretend to pay Tyrion a visit then use his own information to put in a good word for his nephew because he's just awesome like that. 

**_To be continued..._ **


	2. The Third Head

**__ **

**_303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons_ **

The King in the North will be here in a fortnight. 

For weeks they’ve sent ravens back and forth to determine where a good meeting place would be until the king offered to just come to Dorne. He claims he only wishes for her to feel comfortable and safe. Daenerys thinks he has something up his sleeve. She supposes she will find out soon enough. 

“How is the wine, your grace?” 

Daenerys glances up from the red liquid in the goblet to the brown pools of Arianne’s eyes. “The wine is good. It’s always good. I love Dornish wine.” It’s her favorite. Viserys thinks it’s too sweet.

Why is she always thinking of him unbiddenly? 

Arianne looks pleased. “We have the best wine here in Dorne. Everyone knows it.” She puts her goblet down and sits up on her knees, the bangles on her ankles and arms clanking. “Now, what is it that brought you to my bed chamber?” 

They’re sitting on pillows on the floor of the princess’ chamber. Incense and candles are lit and the hot desert air is wafting in from the open window. Earlier that day, Arianne convinced Daenerys to swim with her, and afterward, they had supper together. They retired to their separate chambers hours ago but Daenerys was restless. 

Blushing, Daenerys sets her goblet down as well. “If negotiations go well, I will marry this King in the North. But before that I want…” She can’t outright say what it is she’s planning to do. It’s embarrassing, honestly. She can't tell this woman that she hopes to seduce her brother before she marries. “How do I seduce a man?” she asks instead. 

“You’re already off to a good start being as beautiful as you are. Your sex appeal is very strong as well which is why I assumed you were quite experienced.” 

That’s because Daenerys has read a lot of erotic books while in Meereen. Her handmaidens only knew so much, her closest friend is a child so she couldn’t dare consult her, and she refuses to discuss it with the object of her affection. Still, there is a lot she doesn’t know or understand about bed sport. She doesn’t just want to be knowledgeable, though. She wants to be good at it; good enough to make a man fall deeply in love with her. 

“I know but how do I…” Daenerys sighs. “How do I make a man want me and only me?” 

“Be yourself.” Arianne laughs loudly. “I jest. Men are easy to please. Well, most are. If you can make him feel powerful and capable he will love you more. You have to act as if his mere touch fills you with immense pleasure. Always make him look you in the eye when you fuck that way he’ll be enraptured by you.” 

Daenerys swallows hard. “Can...can you show me what you mean by that?” 

“Of course, your grace.” Arianne brushes her long, wavy hair over her shoulders. “I will be the man,” she says, placing her hands on Daenerys’s shoulders. “Has anyone ever kissed you?” 

“Not really.” 

“So you wish to save your first kiss?” 

She nods. 

Arianne leans in and kisses Daenerys’s collarbone softly. “Then I will kiss you here…” She whispers against her skin. “Close your eyes and pretend I am him..” 

Daenerys’s eyes flutter shut. 

Arianne started with innocent pecks but soon she starts to kiss with her tongue. The kisses feel hot against her skin, making her nipples harden and her core tingle strangely. She knows this feeling. She’s felt it a handful of times before. While watching her shirtless brother spar, while dreaming of the mystery man, and while reading those books about passionate affairs. 

It isn’t hard for her to respond to Arianne’s kissing and light touches. When the woman guides her body, she follows easily and eagerly. Arianne cups her breasts, brushing her fingers over her nipples, giving them a small tug. Back arching, Daenerys lets out a low whine

Perhaps her lack of experience is the reason for how responsive she is. 

“Good, your grace,” Arianne murmurs hotly. “You must be vocal otherwise he won’t know how much he pleases you…” 

Daenerys lies back, allowing Arianne to get on top of her between her legs. The princess kisses her neck and chin. No matter how much she presses up against the woman, she doesn’t get that friction she desperately wants. She wants to be touched down there, too. She’s near tears, she wants it so badly.

Frustrated, she sits up and rolls them over so that she’s on top. Opening her eyes, she meets Arianne’s gaze as she rolls her hips, remembering that eye contact is important even though she's a little embarrassed. 

They gasp in unison at the friction. 

Soon, they’re both moaning and kissing all over the other, but never on the mouth. Daenerys pulls Arianne’s dress down, revealing her plump breasts. The woman is so beautiful that all she can do is just stare at her. 

Before she knows what she’s doing she has a nipple in her mouth while her other hand squeezes the other breast. The flesh feels soft and plush in her mouth, and the woman’s skin tastes sweet on her tongue. Arianne holds on to Daenerys’s hips and pushes them back and forth as she moves her own hips in the same rhythm, bringing them both great pleasure. 

Is this also bed sport? Even though she's doing it with a woman and not a man. It feels like how she imagined bed sport would. It’s hot and passionate, fast, and mind-numbing. Her entire body is scorching and the room is spinning. 

Their dresses are in the way so they get rid of them in blind haste. Without the fabric in between them, the pleasure multiplies. Daenerys cries out when their wetness meets, and she holds onto Arianne’s hands to keep herself upright. 

Who’s the man now? Is it her? Is it Arianne? Does it matter? She doesn’t think so. This is still a lesson. It’s a lesson of pleasure. Daenerys rolls her hips quickly, not only for her own release but so that Arianne can find hers as well. 

This is what bed sport is about, she decides. This is what it should be about, at least. Mutual enjoyment. 

Arianne's hair is splayed out on the floor, surrounding her face like a halo, and she's biting her lips and moaning prettily. The way her body writhes and her breasts heave is hypnotizing. Daenerys hopes she looks just as good. She can't help but feel like she's making a silly face or that her breasts are too small and her curves are undefined. 

Then Arianne shows her a better position, one that allows them to feel one another better, and Daenerys can't get enough of it. She stops caring about how she looks and she just enjoys this experience.

Daenerys always wondered how it would feel to be “enraptured by searing pleasure” as described by the women in the erotic books, and soon she learns exactly what it means. A tidal wave crashes into her, rocking her to her core. She collapses on top of Arianne who appears to be experiencing a similar sensation. Their moans die out, replaced by heavy panting and the occasional whimpering. 

Much later, Daenerys asks Arianne if it will be the same with a man. 

“Better depending on the man,” Arianne says. They’re still laying on the floor together, still naked, and sweating. “Some women are better than some men and the other way around. If there’s love involved than it makes it better than anything.” 

“But both people have to be in love?” 

Arianne nods. “Otherwise you’ll just lie to yourself all the time.” 

Daenerys gets a sick feeling in her gut. She doesn’t think Viserys loves her that way.

But that can change. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons** _

It took them collectively two months to organize the meeting, and for the party from Winterfell to arrive in Dorne. Another three days passed before their guests made it to the Water Gardens. Princess Arianne opened the doors of her family’s private retreat to them, but not without ulterior motives. 

She wants to keep her greatest assets close. While the princess remains at the Old Palace, she has soldiers here, as well as Daemon Sand who Daenerys knows was sent here as a spy.

Even after their intimate moment together Arianne still behaves accordingly, and that makes Daenerys like her even more. She’s glad that they can call themselves allies. 

The King in the North is a light packer by the look of the few trunks carried by his unarmed men. She watches them follow the palace attendant down the pavilion’s halls to where the king’s room is. Her own room is on the opposite side of the palace; it’s decorated in purple and yellow silks, tapestries, Dornish vases, and a bed big enough for five people. She’s told the bed’s size has been put to good use in the past. 

Thinking about the decor in her bedroom helps distract her from the nerves building in her stomach. She wonders if perhaps she should’ve worn a black dress or perhaps a black and scarlet dress to make herself look like a Targaryen queen rather than a little princess. 

It was Viserys who picked out her dress for today. It’s yellow Myrish lace that exposes her flat stomach and the slight muscle in her arms and upper back. Her hair is parted down the middle by a gold hairpiece and she’s wearing an arm bracelet that has a dragon’s head. Usually, her brother likes for her to appear strong and fearless but he wants her to appear the opposite today for some reason.

She can see the king in the distance. He’s flanked by two men, one is much older with greying hair and the other appears to only be a few years older than the king. He has six Northmen with him with each pair being from different northern houses.

Daenerys tries to recall their sigils. 

_A white merman with dark green hair holding a trident over a blue-green field. A silver fist on scarlet. A black battle-ax on silver._

To her right is her king and brother, Viserys, dressed in mustard robes, looking as regal as ever, and on her left stands Ser Barristan. Missandei is standing on the opposite side of Viserys. At Daenerys's back, there are two Unsullied, two Dothraki, and two Second Sons. There’s one person holding the Targaryen banner. 

Daenerys sees that someone is holding a banner that looks like the Stark banner but the colors are different. A white, howling wolf on a black field. Is that his own banner? Is that the banner for the Bastard of Winterfell? 

When the king finally stops in front of them, Daenerys’s breath catches in her throat. 

From afar, he didn’t seem noteworthy, but now that he’s standing before her she can’t deny that he’s worth a second glance.

No, he’s worth many glances. 

He’s much taller than her, slightly tanned from the trek in the desert, grey-eyed, and handsome. His curly hair and thick beard are as dark as raven’s wings and glossy and fully. Not thin and balding like the men who usually approach her. He has a scar over his left eye, and something tells her he has many others. Even in the straggly jerkin, he looks dashing. 

She glances at his full and plump lips then back at his eyes. 

Daenerys opens her mouth to speak but finds herself at a loss for words. How strange. 

Viserys steps in before her inability to speak is noticed. When her brother speaks, she notices how Jon Snow and his men look away from her and stare at the man in shock. Were they not expecting her brother to be so eloquent and commanding? 

Even she’s drawn in by Viserys’s words, momentarily forgetting how her heart thudded when Jon’s eyes met hers. This is a true king, she thinks while she listens to her brother. This is the only king she needs or wants. 

“May I present my sister, Queen Daenerys,” Viserys says after his short welcome speech, gesturing at Daenerys. 

Daenerys steps forward and holds out her hand. Jon looks her in the eyes as he takes her hand, his fingers rough and calloused, and kisses it. 

“It’s an honor, your grace,” he says, his voice gruff and heavy with what she believes to be a northern accent. She will have to get used to that she supposes. “Thank you for having us.” 

“Yes, of course.” She doesn’t want to acknowledge him as a king considering she intends to rule over all seven kingdoms. But if they go through with this marriage, the North will be hers either way. “Thank you for extending an offer, your grace. I do hope this meeting will have a prosperous turnout. The realm depends on it.” 

Jon’s gaze is piercing. “Yes, the realm does depend on it. More than you know.” 

Daenerys frowns slightly at the implication that there is something she’s unaware of. She’s studied Westerosi history endlessly and makes it her job to stay up to date with what’s happening. Does he think just because she’s spent so much time in Essos that she’s ignorant? 

Before she can question him on what he means by that, Viserys interrupts with a chuckle and tells them that they will have plenty of time to discuss serious matters. Her brother must have sensed her anger brewing. Out of the two, she has the worst temper. 

“I imagine you all must be famished,” Viserys says, signaling to the attendants. “After you’re settled into your rooms, baths and food will be provided. We will reconvene later.” 

Jon nods and looks over his shoulder at his men, silently ordering them to follow the attendants. Then he looks at Daenerys again, his expression unreadable. 

“I look forward to talking with you more, your grace,” he says directly to her. 

Then he follows after his men. 

Daenerys will admit that the king isn’t unsightly like she assumed he would be, but other than that she doesn’t see herself falling for him. Although she must remember that this is not about love or romance. This is about what’s good for the realm. She will marry this man, she will endure. 

She looks over at Viserys. He’s joking with Missandei, making her giggle. The perfect man for her has always been by her side. If only he’d open his eyes and see her. 

Before she marries anyone, she’s going to make sure Viserys sees her. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Jon, Lord Snow, King of the North, Bastard of Winterfell** _

Jon remembers hearing about Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen in passing back during a time when the only thing he cared about was surviving another night of Wall duty. 

Sam was rambling, as he often does, about them and Maester Aemon one night over a meal of mutton. His friend felt terrible knowing that the maester’s remaining family members were on the other side of the world, fighting for their lives in Meereen. Before the siblings prevailed and successfully conquered the city, Maester Aemon died. 

At the time, Jon felt bad but only on the maester’s behalf. He never cared about the Targaryen siblings when he was a brother of the Night’s Watch because the matter of exiled royalty wasn’t his concern. But as a king trying to, not only defend his kingdom but the realm as well, he cares a great deal about them. 

Jon recalls the information his council gave him before he left Winterfell for Dorne. 

Daenerys was rumored to be a witch who seduces men left and right. It was even said that she bedded the captain of the Second Sons and that's how she obtained the company. She has a new man in her bed nightly, keeps a supply of moon tea, and is barren due to her overconsumption of the tonic. 

As for Viserys, he was rumored to be insipid, craven, and cruel. The man supposedly took male and female slaves to his bed to perform atrocious acts. What he did with them afterward was even worse. They say he fed them to his dragon and laughed as the beast ate. 

The dragons were nowhere in sight but Jon knows they’re close. He can feel them. 

Over his goblet of Dornish wine, Jon watches Daenerys and Viserys dance in the middle of the hall. A banquet is being held to honor his visit. There’s plenty of food, wine, and half-naked dancers to go around. He’s seated at the long table that’s on the elevated dais, looking down on the other guests in attendance which are few. 

Daenerys doesn’t look like a witch.

The first time he saw her, he found her breathtaking. He still does, of course. There’s an innocence to her, too. One that speaks of chastity, not promiscuity. However, what does he know? After everything he’s seen and done, he should know better than anyone that things are not always as they seem. 

Then there’s Viserys.

When the man spoke early, it took him and his men by surprise. He spoke like...well, he spoke like a king. He carried himself like one as well. He’s much taller than Jon pictured, broad-shouldered and handsome. Both siblings are ridiculously comely; the way Valyrians are said to be in the books he’s read. 

“Your grace,” Davos Seaworth says, leaning over. “I think now would be a good time to present the queen with the gift you brought.” 

Shaking his head, Jon takes a sip of wine. It tastes like ashes. Everything he eats or drinks taste like bitter ashes on his tongue. He can’t find enjoyment in either these days. Sometimes he finds himself craving things he’s never craved before. He supposes spending days inside of Ghost has changed him in more ways than one. He hates he had to leave his faithful companion behind for this trip. 

“I’ll give it to her when we’re alone,” Jon says, watching Daenerys smile up at her brother. “What do you know about their relationship? They seem...close…” 

Davos chuckles. “They’re Targaryens, your grace, so I assume they’re very close.” 

It doesn’t matter, Jon tells himself. He didn’t come here for her. He came here for her army, her dragons. There’s a greater threat beyond the wall and he’ll need her help in order to defeat that threat. 

Taking back Winterfell was spurred on by his desire to rescue his younger sister from a madman. But that girl turned out to be Jeyne Poole. He didn’t consider it a loss because he still saved her from further mistreatment and he restored Winterfell to its former glory and Theon is now his prisoner. 

He would’ve killed the man on sight if not for how broken he was. At this point killing Theon would be setting Theon free, and Jon isn’t quite ready for that. So, he has Theon as a prisoner back at Winterfell. He doubts the man's sister, Asha, will want him back but it’s worth a try in the long run. He likes to keep potential bargaining chips on standby.

After handling that, he gathered all of the traitors he could find and dished out the same punishment that he dealt the traitors who stabbed him to death. He took all of their heads with Longclaw. He would’ve put them on spikes as a warning, but even someone as depraved as he could recognize that was taking it too far.

Instead, he denied them all proper burial and had their bodies left in the woods so that their souls would further feel his wrath.

“About the raven that arrived before we left Winterfell,” Davos says, weighing his words carefully. “Do you intend to share the information with them anytime soon?” 

The first time Jon read the message from Howland Reed he burst into laughter. The second time he read it, he burst into angry tears. During the journey here, he pondered over the information for hours. 

Rhaegar Targaryen, the fallen prince, and Lyanna Stark, his “aunt” who died before her time, are his true parents.

How ironic of him constantly wondering where his mother was, who she was, just for him to walk over her corpse every single fucking day. His uncle Ned knew. He knew the entire time but never told him a thing. He was right there at Castle Black with his own great uncle and had no idea. Once, when he was Lord Commander, he found a letter from Prince Rhaegar to Maester Aemon and he remembers thinking of how passionate and kind the man was despite all the nasty things he's heard about him. 

Jon was pissed, initially. Sometimes he still gets pissed. 

What’s done is done, though. 

He says that but he knows he’ll be pissed about it all over again soon. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t know how to feel. If he stops to think it over, he’s afraid he’ll break down completely and what good will that do? 

Jon watches Viserys kiss the top of Daenerys’s head before departing to a far corner in the hall where a Dornish knight is. Daenerys looks put out.

Now’s his chance. 

“Why bother?” he asks Davos. “If Daenerys and I marry, I will still get what I want.” 

“But, your grace-” 

The look Jon gives the man silences him. He likes Davos but he's still a king and sometimes a king just wants his men to shut the hell up and leave them be. 

Jon makes his way over to Daenerys. She’s his aunt by blood but they have no familial bond, making it easier for him to ignore their kinship. Besides, he’s never really cared about things like incest. Plenty of noble houses have wed within. 

“Are you enjoying the banquet, your grace?” Daenerys asks as he approaches, putting on a fake smile. She’s wearing a deep purple dress with gold rings holding the top and bottom part together. Her silver-blonde hair is pinned up with a single curl hanging down her back. 

“I am. You don’t seem to be, though.” 

Daenerys gives a little shrug. “I don’t really care for them.” 

That sounds like a lie. She enjoys banquets; she doesn’t like it when her brother leaves her for someone else. He’ll just have to make her forget all about her brother and rely solely on him. 

“Then shall we leave?” he asks, offering his arm. “I’d like to walk around the gardens with you.” 

She stares at his arm then back at his face before taking it. “Gardens are better during the day,” she says as she leaves the hall with him. 

“This is true but at night they have a certain charm about them.” 

She smiles nice. Nice and clean. She's a literal breath of fresh air after spending years surrounded by people who bathed once a year. 

They walk out under the pavilion to where the garden lies just up ahead. He can smell the lemons in the night air. It’s hot out here. Even with the thin tunic on, he’s burning up. Daenerys’s body heat doesn’t help, either. She burns hot like a furnace. Is that because of her Valyrian blood or something else? 

“Have you ever been to Dorne?” she asks as they walk down the rows of rose bushes. 

He was born here. 

“I’ve never been outside of the North until I journeyed here,” he says. The lie comes to him easily considering he was only a babe, far too young to remember anything about his birthplace. 

Daenerys nods and looks up at the moon. “What is it like in the North? I’m told it’s completely covered in snow and that if you step outside you’ll freeze to death instantly.” 

Jon lets out a genuine chuckle that startles him. He hasn’t laughed and meant it in some time. He never expected such a child-like response from her. It’s kind of endearing. 

“If it were that cold how would anyone live there?” he asks, masking a smile. 

Even at night, he can see the blush on her cheeks. “That’s silly, I know. But is it really cold there or is it a tall tale?” 

“It’s definitely cold there. Once I fell asleep outside and woke up with icicles hanging from my nostrils.” 

It’s a joke. 

The same joke he used to tell his younger sister Arya. He doesn’t know if she’s alive or dead. Rickon is alive but he's barely human, Bran is definitely dead. Sansa hasn’t been seen or heard from since she escaped King’s Landing. Unless someone is looking out for her, she's dead too. But there's nothing to be done about it when there are more important matters, sadly. 

The wildlings he’s let over the wall speak of an army of a couple hundred thousand, all undead creatures controlled by a being far greater than anything they’ve ever seen. He’s seen enough with his own eyes not to doubt their claims, he saw how they fought desperately to get over the wall to safety. 

Who has time to think about family when faced with a threat like that? Yet here Jon is trying to make his estranged aunt laugh with a joke he used to tell a sister that was never truly his sister. 

Daenerys does laugh. She does it in a cute way, covering her mouth with her hand and looking away from him. “You can’t be serious…” 

“Removing them was the hard part. I lost a little skin-” 

She bursts out laughing, and he halts just to stare at her.

The same moon he used to stare at for many nights grants him enough light to see the way her eyes crinkle as she laughs. Warmth begins to slowly take over the iciness of his dead heart. He knows this laugh. Where has he heard it before? In a dream perhaps? 

So much about him has changed since his resurrection, and pieces of himself were stripped away. Yet he still dreams of a mystery woman most nights. The dreams started when he was five and ten, after he made it back over the wall, after what he thought was his first love. 

Dreaming of the girl with no face made his time at Castle Black a little more bearable. The weight of being Lord Commander was suffocating him, he was growing paranoid, and was constantly doubting his decisions. 

But at night he would dream of her and it made everything better. 

Daenerys blinks hard at him. Self-consciously, she tucks hair behind her ear. “You are very humorous, your grace,” she says. 

Jon dismisses the insignificant thought. They’re not the same person, he decides. They can’t be. He doesn't even know if that girl is even an actual person. Perhaps he created her as a way to comfort himself.

Pathetic. He used to be so damn pathetic and that was why he was betrayed and murdered. His scars begin to sting, that bone-deep bitterness filling him. He swallows it down. 

“You’re the only one who thinks so.” Jon notices that she’s warming up to him. Now is as good a time as any to give her the gift. “I brought a gift for you actually. It’s in my chamber…” 

“You want me to come to your chamber with you for a gift?” she asks, eyeing him warily. 

Does she think he’s trying to bed her already? And that’s not the reaction he’d expect from a wanton woman. Wouldn't she be eager to come to his chamber and seduce him? 

“I will go and retrieve the gift for you. You can wait here,” Jon says. 

“No,” she says quickly. “I will go with you…” 

As they’re walking through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, he sees her fidgeting with the rings of her dress. She’s nervous like a maid. 

This woman was married to a horse lord when she was three and ten, she carried his babe, and lost his babe. She’s had many lovers...at least that’s what the people in Meereen said. Most of those people were trying to overthrow Daenerys and Viserys just so they could keep the slave trade running.

How trustworthy is their word?

Reaching the door to his chamber, Jon turns and faces Daenerys. “Wait here, it will only be a few moments.” 

Daenerys eyes widen fractionally. She’s obviously surprised that he didn’t invite her in. 

She nods and bites her lips. He enters the chamber and walks over to the smallest of the trunks he brought with him. When he takes out the ruby bracelet, he feels a pang in his chest. 

He was told that the rubies in this bracelet are some of the rubies that were once on Rhaegar’s breastplate; his father’s breastplate. When Robert cracked Rhaegar’s chest with his war hammer, the rubies spilled into the Trident, and men from both sides dove in to retrieve them. Animals, he thinks bitterly. Their prince had just fallen and that’s what they decided to do. Even before he learned the truth about his parents, hearing that story never sat right with him.

Perhaps he’s always known in his heart. 

Shaking his head, he closes the trunk. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He’s always telling himself this. He used to pray to one day learn the truth about his mother, but now that he knows about both parents he wishes he didn’t. Because knowing that he has real blood relatives makes him want to connect with them, it makes him want to seek normalcy. But there is no normalcy for him. There never has been. He has a larger role to play which is why he was resurrected. 

Daenerys lifts her head and snatches her hand away from the rings in her dress when he opens the door. She stands straighter, putting on the mask of a well-together queen and not an anxious queen. 

Jon hands her the bracelet. “This was given to me as a gift by a lord seeking my favor. I’m told these rubies were originally in your brother’s breastplate.” 

“My brother?” she asks, weighing the bracelet in her hand. “Rhaegar?” 

“Yes.” 

Daenerys traces her finger over one of the rubies. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she says, her voice thick. “I have a gift for you as well but it’s a gift meant for a husband...” 

“I understand. I just thought you should have that.” 

“Thank you.” She looks up at him. “I used to wish I had something that belonged to him. Now I do.” 

Perhaps she is a witch. She’s making him feel things and want things he hasn’t felt or desired in years. 

Jon offers to walk her to her room as a way to get away from her. He has to get his head back on straight before he ruins everything. They don’t talk during the walk. Daenerys stares at the bracelet as though it were the most valuable thing she’s ever owned. He’s heard of the riches she’s obtained during her conquests in Meereen so he knows she's not a stranger to wealth, but the bracelet is more valuable to her than gold or other jewels. 

Speaking of her conquests, is the girl who birthed dragons, freed slaves, and liberated cities the same girl who blushes at dumb jokes and gets nervous at the thought of being along in a man’s chamber? Who is she really? He wants to know her, not the rumors or the mask she hides behind. 

“Thank you again for this wonderful gift,” she says once they’re outside of her door. She slipped on the bracelet midway through their walk. “I will cherish it. Always.” 

Jon nods. “Goodnight, your grace.” 

Daenerys steps up to him, the scent of vanilla and something citrusy filling his nostrils. “Goodnight,” she says quietly. She touches his chest and kisses him on the cheek. 

Heat blossoms from the area where her hand is, spreading to his heart throughout the rest of his body. For the first time in years following his resurrection, he feels alive again. It thuds hard in his chest, beating against his ribcage like the fluttering of a raven’s wings

Jon puts an arm around her small waist, pressing her closer to his body, and kisses her lips. Her sweet, tender lips. They’re so soft, reminding him of a flower’s petals. He only intended to kiss her once then leave, but then he has to lick the seam of her lips and press his tongue into her mouth. She sighs against him, bringing her hands up to curl them in his hair as his hands glide down her back slowly.

She fits perfectly in his arms, he absently thinks, as though every action, every decision, and every failure was all pre-determined to bring him to this moment. 

Kiss deepening, he pushes her back against the door. Daenerys tugs on his hair lightly and moans in his mouth. She’s trying to kiss him just as passionately but he can tell that she’s inexperienced. 

Pulling away, he cups her chin and kisses her slowly, drawing it out so that she’ll get the gist of it. He drags his tongue over her bottom lip, nibbling it with his teeth, and kissing her harder. Repeating the action, he waits until she successfully mimics what he showed her before increasing in fervency. 

Daenerys is a fast learner. Soon, he’s the one gasping for air and kissing sloppily. Then something occurs to him. 

Breaking away from the kiss, he continues cupping her chin. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asks, holding her gaze. 

She shakes her head. 

Did the horse lord just mount her as he pleased without kissing her pretty lips? No. No, that can’t be the case. Daenerys doesn’t just act like someone who’s never been kissed before. She acts like someone who’s never done a lot of intimate things. 

“Are you a maid?” he asks boldly. 

She looks down as though she were ashamed. But then she looks him in the eye again and nods.

Well, that explains a lot but also opens new doors. Initially, Jon planned to pretend to be interested in her, but now he wants to know everything there is to know about Daenerys. 

“Can you invite me in?” he asks, stepping away. He’s hard in his trousers but it’s gradually going down. “I promise not to do anything you don’t want. I just want to talk to you.” 

Daenerys smooths down her dress and pats her hair. There’s not a hair out of place, though. She still looks perfect. 

“Talk?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Are you certain that’s all you want to do, your grace?” 

“That isn’t the half of what I want to do, but tonight, I just want to talk.” He smiles. “And maybe kiss you again. Is that okay?” 

Daenerys returns his smile. “Then you may come in.” 

* * *

_**303 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

Slicing his thumb, Viserys holds it over the smoking, bronze basin as he utters an incantation. The red priests use the flames, the followers of the Drowned God stare into the depths of the sea, and sorcerers like him look to the purest medium of all.

Blood.

As the water blackens, an image of gold armored men marching across sand comes into view. 

The pretender and his forces are no longer heading to King’s Landing. From the look of it, they’re making their way to Dragonstone. There’s a small force held up there; a ragtag group of bandits and deserters. False Aegon and his men will do away with them quickly without a major loss on their side.

Ever since Tywin and Kevan Lannister were murdered, the Queen Regent called all of their forces back to the capital, leaving the areas they’ve claimed during the rebellion defenseless. A stupid move on her behalf. Now the entire realm thinks they're cowards. 

But it's the reason why Jon was able to take back the North without interruption and the reason why they’re able to remain in Dorne comfortably. Cersei believes she’s safe so long as she remains within the walls of the Red Keep, and she isn’t going to risk sending the Crown’s forces off to various places to battle a few rebels. She thinks she’s being wise. Viserys is certain that if her father were alive they’d have more to worry about. 

Cersei isn’t their competition. He keeps telling Daenerys not to waste energy thinking of the woman. This pretender isn’t even a true contender yet out of the two, he’s the one to worry about. The men fighting for him have been fighting for a place they can call home for years, and they believe only this false prince king can give them that. 

They’re going to Dragonstone because it’s a safe place to regroup. By now, the greyscale is beginning to spread on Jon Connington’s body. Varys and IIlyrio probably wish to move forward with the siege of King’s Landing, but the “prince” is quite fond of Connington so he will want to take care of him first. 

Foolish child, Viserys thinks, though, the boy is a man now.

Still, he’s foolish to pull back his army all because one person is ill. It's almost laughable how easy this will be. However, there will be a battle and Viserys is certain they will have casualties on their side but compared to how horribly things would've played out had his sister had Tyrion in her ear, they're going to breeze through this war. 

Viserys waves his hand over the basin and the blood drains, returning the water to its original form. He sucks on his thumb and it slowly heals. 

Content, for now, he walks over to the wine decanter in his chamber and pours himself a glass. One of the handmaidens informed him of the walk Jacaerys and Daenerys took in the garden. She also told him that the two shared a kiss in front of his sister’s room before going inside. 

Just as he predicted, the two will fall hard and fast for one another. No amount of darkness in his nephew’s heart can harden him against Daenerys.

“Damn, I deserve a reward,” he mutters to himself. 

The only reward he wants is playing so hard to get that it’s beginning to tick him off. At the banquet, he tried to talk to Daemon but the knight gave him the slip. He’s beginning to think that Daemon just isn’t interested in him that way. 

There are other men and women here for him to choose from but Viserys is picky. When he wants someone, really wants someone, he wants them and only them. He even passed up the chance of fucking a stunning woman like Arianne all because he was spending all of his time with Daemon.

Fuck he really blew it. 

Viserys is on his third cup of wine when there’s a knock on his door. For years he’s had handmaidens and serving boys try to warm his bed. He always asks them their age, and they’re always too young so he sends them away. 

He’s prepared to do the same thing now. He’ll just jack off and go to sleep. 

Pulling his loose blouse up over his chest, he opens the door. There isn’t a handmaiden or a serving boy outside his door. Daemon is the one paying him a late-night visit. The man is wearing a light, sleeveless tunic, his toned arms on full display, and plain trousers instead of the breastplate he wore at the banquet. He looks as if he was preparing for bed, his hair is ruffled and his eyes are tired. 

Viserys has never wanted to suck anyone’s dick so badly. 

He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, though. “Ser,” he says, keeping it formal. “Do you need me?” 

“I would like to have a word with you, your grace,” Daemon says, poorly masking his uncertainty. 

“Come in.” Viserys closes the door behind him. “Care for a drink?” 

“I better not.” 

Well, that can’t be good. 

Nonetheless, he gestures at a chair for Daemon to sit on then he sits on the edge of his bed. There’s tension in the air and not the good kind. They went from sparring together every morning and sharing a drink occasionally to moving around one another as though they were former lovers who ended on bad terms. 

For all of his confidence and easy-going nature, Viserys is always afraid of fucking up a good thing. Love doesn’t come easy for him, affection makes him uncomfortable, and he’s bad at commitment. But he makes rare exceptions. Since he’s been in this time, he’s never made an exception or felt compelled to do so.

Until now that is. 

Daemon should reject him, though. It’s for the best as Viserys’s time is limited here. Once he does what he came to do he has to return to his own time.

Damn, that just made him depressed. There’s a very strong chance that everyone will forget him, that his presence in this time will be completely wiped from the pages of history. The only thing that matters is that Daenerys and Jacaerys will rule and moving forward their family will break away from its curse. 

“May I be frank, your grace?” Daemon asks, turning his body to face where Viserys is. 

“Always,” he answers, far too hasty. “When we’re in private, at least.” 

“I won’t disclose more than necessary but in the past, I’ve been the object of desire for nobles, and I’ve shared their bed. Afterward, I was cast aside or the entire affair was forgotten by them…” 

Arianne and Oberyn are among those nobles.

The former gave her maidenhead to the knight as a way to get the better of her father. As for Oberyn, well Oberyn was known to bed multiple people, but love them he rarely did. Does Daemon think Viserys intends to use him the same way? Before he can interject, Daemon continues. 

“...I enjoyed my time with them, though, it was brief so I am not here to play victim,” he says. “As a youth, I felt honored to be chosen by them. Looking back, I see no such honor in being a royal plaything. I do not wish to repeat that cycle again.” 

Well, Viserys wasn’t expecting the man to disclose all of that. At least he knows that Daemon does want him, he just doesn’t want to go through the same thing again. That's fair. 

“Would you be opposed to us simply spending time together?” Viserys asks. 

“Like we used to do?” 

“Yes.” 

Daemon stares at him long and hard. “That’s all you want from me? Companionship until you retake your throne?” 

Viserys thinks about lying, but decides to go with the truth.“I want so much more but I’m willing to settle for just that.”

Being the bigger person actually fucking sucks. Old him would've persuaded Daemon, he would've lied and schemed his way into bed with Daemon; old him was a cunt but a long talk with his mother before she died changed him for the better. 

“Thank you, your grace. I will be leaving now.” Daemon stands, looking lighter than he did when he walked into the room. 

“Daemon, wait!” 

He waits. 

Licking his lips, Viserys considers his next words. He wants to assure Daemon that he could never cast him aside, that he could never forget their time together. But he holds his tongue. 

“Goodnight,” he says. 

“Goodnight, your grace.” 

Once Daemon is gone, Viserys falls back on the bed and sighs. Funny how he used to tease his sister for always staring up at the canopy and sighing as though she were lovesick and here he is doing the same. 

* * *

**_303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons_ **

They sit on a cushioned area of the floor behind the mesh, purple curtains, and talk for hours about any- and everything.

Daenerys can’t recall a time that she’s talked to anyone this much in one sitting. With Viserys, he would spend hours telling her stories. So, he did most of the talking, but it’s reciprocated with Jon. 

He asked her about her time with Khal Drogo, and she shares as much with him as she can without revealing Viserys’s role as the shadow Khaleesi. However, she confirms that her maidenhead is still intact and that the rumors that were spread about her were the masters’ lies. 

They discuss their separate journeys from nothing to leaders. He even tells her about Maester Aemon, her great uncle, and how the man always followed her and her brother's movements and wished that he could be with them. She wishes she could've met him before he died. Then they backtrack and she asks him about growing up in Winterfell as the Lord’s bastard son. Jon doesn’t tell her much, but from what he does tell her she knows his upbringing was difficult. 

“Your stepmother was cruel to you,” Daenerys says knowingly. 

“I was the constant reminder of her husband’s alleged infidelity.” 

“Alleged? Was Lord Stark not wed when he sired you?” 

Jon hesitates. 

He’s been doing that often which is how she knows that, like her, he’s on guard. Despite appearing to be relaxed, both are still mindful of the reason for this meeting. For all she knows, he wishes for northern independence; as silly as that is. She can’t reveal too much to him until she’s certain they’ll be married. 

The truth of her virtue would only work in her favor if he were to spread the information. Lords who were disinterested in seeking her hand in marriage will be more inclined to court her. 

Daenerys may be naive in some areas but her political mind is always working overtime, and she can tell that Jon is the same. Every word is calculated. Even when he’s staring into the depths of her eyes or kissing her sweetly, they’re ever mindful of their duties.

“I often doubt that Eddard Stark was my father at all,” Jon finally says. 

“Then who if not him?” she asks, her interest piqued. “Now that I think about it, we’re the same age. We were both born during a tumultuous time in the realm.” 

“Robert’s Rebellion.” 

Daenerys makes a face. “I’ve never liked that name.” 

Jon chuckles. “You hate that name because it places blame on your brother, Rhaegar. It is said Robert rebelled because-” 

“Robert Baratheon was a foul man who believed a young woman was his property.” That’s what Viserys always tells her. Rhaegar and the Stark woman, Lyanna, fell in love at the tourney at Harrenhal. Although Rhaegar was already wed, it was a match of convenience, strengthened by mutual respect. But not one of love. “My father was a poor king. War would’ve broken out regardless of my brother’s...unwise actions.” 

“You disagree with what Rhaegar did then?” 

“It is said that he raped Lyanna Stark. I do not believe that. However, I do wish that he would’ve planned better, but he did what he thought was best." 

“You seem to know more than a lot of people.” 

“Viserys has taught me a lot.” 

“Viserys was what back then...six...seven? How does he know so much?” 

It’s a question Daenerys has asked himself often. Her brother seems to know things that no one else knows. But she’s never questioned him because he’s never led her down the wrong road. Besides, in the case of Rhaegar, Ser Barristan has backed up most of what her brother told her. 

“You are aware that Barristan Selmy is in my council, yes,” Daenerys says. 

“I am.” 

“Then you have your answer.” 

“I suppose I do.” Jon lays down beside her, with his head propped up on one of the pillows. He looks up at her, catching her staring. “Something on my face?” he asks. 

Carefully, Daenerys traces her finger over his scar. “There is. How’d you get this?” she asks quietly. The scar isn’t the only thing of note about his face. His bone structure, the bridge of his nose, and his lips remind her of someone. 

“An eagle attacked me when I was beyond the wall,” he says. 

Where has she seen his face before? Daenerys traces his nose then lightly scratches his beard. She thinks of the visions she had in the House of the Undying what feels like ages ago. She saw her brother Rhaegar playing a harp and speaking to a woman. Suddenly, the image of the mystery man from her dreams comes to mind. 

Daenerys blinks hard. She moves to pull her hand away, but Jon stops her. 

“Don’t stop,” he says, closing his eyes. “No one’s ever done that for me.” 

Smiling to herself, she touches his beard again, scratching it gently. Earlier today, she planned to drink her fill at the banquet to help her gather the courage to visit Viserys’s chambers and show him that she was a woman now, to confess her love for him.

Now she’s picturing a future with this Jon Snow. 

Does this make her wanton? She’s held a candle for her brother since she was three and ten then comes this northern and she’s already swept away by him. But there have been other handsome men in the past who have pursued her. Strong, beautiful men, with power and wealth yet she felt nothing for them. 

What does this mean? What does it mean that Jon fits the description of her dream man more than Viserys ever has? 

“I can almost hear your thoughts,” Jon says, opening his eyes. Under the dim light, his eyes could almost be purple, not grey. “What are you thinking about?” 

Daenerys laughs softly. She touches the small dip above his lips. “It’s just that...you favor my brother Rhaegar.” She traces over his lips. “I saw him once in a vision. Long story short, while we were in Qarth we had a run-in with warlocks. While in the House of the Undying, I had several visions and Rhaegar was one of them…” 

“What was he like in your vision?” 

“Beautiful, tall, taller than Viserys even, and he…” She stares at Jon’s face. “Gods, if he had a beard you two would be twins.” 

Matter of fact, following the welcome ceremony, Ser Barristan was shaken up as if he’d seen a ghost. When she asked him what was wrong, he simply said that the King in the North reminded him of an old friend. 

Before Daenerys can further delve on the oddity, she’s laying on top of Jon, his arms caging her in. She’s always wanted to be held like this, even better is how solid and strong he is. 

“Sorry,” Jon says, not sorry at all. “I just want to kiss you again, that’s all.” 

Daenerys allows him to kiss her. She allows him to slide his hands down her back, she allows him to cup her ass, and if she weren’t trying to secure an important alliance with him, she would allow him to do more. But she’s afraid that if she gives him too much, he won’t consider her worthy of marriage. Perhaps if she was more confident in areas of seduction it would be different. 

She knows how to win people over in other ways, however. 

“I’m very tired, your grace,” she says, lips swollen and tingling from all of his nibbling and sucking. “We both have a long day tomorrow.” She thinks it may be tomorrow already. They’ve been talking for so long. 

When they’re at the door, Jon steals a kiss before he leaves. 

Lying in bed much later, Daenerys touches her lips and thinks about their kiss. Then she thinks about Jon’s face and how he favors Rhaegar. She only saw Rhaegar briefly, in a vision, no less, so she can’t be certain. Still, there is something strange about this northern king. 

When she touched him, she felt the same heat she used to feel whenever she touched her dragon eggs.

* * *

_**303 AC - Jon, Lord Snow, King of the North, Bastard of Winterfell** _

After leaving Daenerys’s chamber last night, Jon almost ventured to the training yard to blow off some steam but decided against it. 

He didn’t want the entire palace pissed at him for disturbing their peace. Instead, he went to his chamber and read over Howland Reed’s message again before burning the letter. That will ensure he sticks to his original plan and not get swept up in the current that is Daenerys Targaryen. 

He wants to say that last night was just him playing the long game, he wants to say that every action was calculated and just a ploy to get her to trust him. But he can’t lie to himself. He did keep a lot to himself, and of course, he’s being cautious.

However, all of the kissing and affectionate touching were genuine. 

Does he have to fake it? 

Does he have to pretend to love Daenerys in order to get what he wants? Why can't he love her and still do what he came here to do? The plan was to do whatever it took to ensure he had the siblings as allies. He never planned to _not_ fall for her. He just doubted that he would. Now, he’s beginning to believe that Daenerys is the only person who can make him feel alive again. 

During their sit down that following morning, Jon puts last night in the back of his mind and locks it away as he’s here for business. Still, he steals glances at her when she’s talking or when she’s deep in thought. She looks like a different woman entirely in her family’s colors. 

Gone is the naive maid, in her place is the Dragon Queen. Daenerys’s red and back gown is sleeveless with an ombre cape that’s held by two, three-headed dragon pins. Viserys is wearing the same colors. Together, they look the part of king and queen so well that he wonders why they didn’t just get married. 

Jon doesn’t like the sound of that. He’s glad Daenerys remains unwed. After last night, he’s more determined than ever to make sure he’s the only one who marries her, and it’s just not because he needs her dragons. He simply wants her. 

And he’s a king. He can have whatever he wants. 

“I am not here for Northern independence,” Jon says in reply to Ser Barristan’s question. “I am here to ensure the North and the south are united again as they have been since the conquerors made it so.” It’s too soon to tell them about the dead things beyond the wall. 

“I agree that our union would be the best to make that so,” Daenerys says, sounding nothing like the woman he taught how to kiss last night. The way she’s able to also put last night behind her for this meeting lets him know that her naivety doesn’t extend past bed sport. “But what will happen to the North while their king is in the south?” 

Usually, the woman would go live in her husband’s lands, but he’s never expected her to live in Winterfell with him. He doubts the northerners would want her and her dragons there, anyway. So, he’s prepared for this. 

Jon glances around the room, the others are waiting for his response. His eyes catch Viserys’s; it’s the first time they’ve really made eye contact, and there’s a softness in the man’s eyes. He thought the man would be hostile and rude but so far Viserys hasn’t bothered him at all. 

Looking away from the man, he looks at Daenerys. “I will appoint a warden, and royal progress can be used to help familiarize ourselves with the rebuilt realm, including the North.”

“Will this warden only answer to you?” she asks. 

They will answer to him first and he will decide if it’s important enough to bother her with it. Jon tells her that but in a more eloquent way. 

Viserys chuckles. It’s the first time he’s made any sound since the meeting started well over an hour ago. “You don’t want northern independence, you’re willing to live in King’s Landing despite the ill-fate you Stark men seem to face in the south, and you have no intentions of ruling over the North alone.” He smirks at Jon. “Then what do you want? Do you only want to marry my sister?” 

Why does it feel as if Viserys knows that Jon is hiding something? It isn’t odd to simply be here for a good marriage. He’ll get to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, and he’ll have a beautiful wife. Why would Viserys think that he wants more? 

“Is that so hard to believe?” Jon asks, keeping the irritation out of his voice. He’s easily annoyed these days, his patience thinner than it’s ever been. “The North won’t survive another war, and even if the realm has yet to recognize it, I believe that the rightful heirs to the Iron Throne have finally come. We can be rid of that Lannister filth for good as well.” 

Daenerys nods. “Speaking of the Lannisters, what do you think would be the best course of action for the child king Tommen? His sister Myrcella will be wed to Trystane Martell soon, but what of her brother?” 

The usual course of action is to execute the boy. It’s the best way to ensure Tommen never gets the gall to rise up again and try to reclaim a throne that was never truly his. But he knows that Daenerys is testing him. Jon isn’t huge on child killing, and Tommen should be ten now. 

“I am certain the boy is his mother’s puppet,” Jon says. “It’s not too late for him to unlearn whatever nonsense she put in his head. The boy should be kept close. Either fostered with an ally in Westeros or kept in the Red Keep.” 

Daenerys seems pleased with his response. Still, she’s not done. “As for his mother? What of his uncle, Tyrion Lannister?” 

“Not sure where the latter is but Cersei should be publicly executed.” Jon knows that sounds cruel considering she’s a woman and all, but the people need to see the fate of all pretenders. “In the past, I was fond of the Imp. Now I can’t say that I’d shed a tear for him.” 

“What do you want from me as your queen?” Daenerys asks plainly. Beside her, Ser Barristan hides a smile. “Aside from the typical wifely duties, of course. I am asking you for your undying loyalty, I am asking for you to ensure the northern forces always answer our call, I am asking you to help me show the North that we are here to save this realm, not plunge it into further darkness. Yet what is it that you ask of me?” 

He’s asking her to believe him and trust in him, he’s asking her to point her armies and dragons north, far north, and he’s asking her to fight alongside him until the end. 

Jon holds her gaze. “I ask for your undying loyalty as well, and I ask that whenever the North is in danger that you will do everything in your power to help me save it.” 

“Why would the North be in danger?” Daenerys asks. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve made peace with the wildlings beyond the wall and have even granted them the lands known as The Gift. Who else poses a threat to the North, your grace?” 

“I’m speaking hypothetically, of course,” he lies easily. “We never know what new threat may arise.” 

Viserys does a little eye roll that suggests he thinks Jon is full of shit. But he doesn’t call him out on it which is strange. 

“How soon can they be wed?” Viserys asks, startling everyone in the room. “We can’t waste too much time on this matter. We’ll need the North’s loyalty set in stone before we can lay siege to King’s Landing. Our father was tricked by someone he believed to be an ally and paid for it, we won’t make the same mistake.” 

How does Viserys know that Jon won’t marry Daenerys, take her maidenhead, and still betray her once the fight breaks out? Even if Jon was intending to betray Daenerys he could never do that to her. He’d kill her before he bedded her. 

But killing Daenerys has never been his plan. For starters, he knows that regardless of who his father was, he can’t control all three of her dragons and he’s certain at least one of them will cook him thoroughly if he harms her. 

“A small ceremony can be held here, I’m sure,” Ser Barristan says. He looks at Davos. “Do you have any objections to that?” 

“I do,” Ser Davos says, not unkindly. “Jon is northern born. He’s their king. The Northmen are a prickly bunch. I think they would respect her grace more if she traveled north for their wedding rather than him marrying her on southern lands.” 

As silly as it sounds, the old man is right. Daenerys is considered southern blood, and she’s never stepped foot in the North. If she can’t travel north to be wed to their king with them as a witness, they’ll find any reason to hate her more than they already probably do. 

“How long is the journey?” Daenerys asks. “I must remind you both that I am in the middle of a war with two enemies.” 

Viserys says, “Too long. We need to meet the pretender in battle soon before he holds himself up inside the walls of Dragonstone. Our scouts predict it will take them less than three weeks to reach its shores. We can get there well before them.” 

“That’s impossible,” Jon says. 

“Dragons are faster than ships,” Daenerys says smiling. “And the sea winds seem to favor us.” She shares a knowing glance with her brother who gives her a sly smirk. 

Dragons may be fast but they have to be using some powerful magic to make sure their ships sail faster than someone who already has a head start. 

“Then I will accompany you,” Jon says. He’s itching for a fight and this will show her that he’s serious about their union. “We can travel to White Harbour together afterward.” 

Surprisingly, no one protests, not even Davos who’s always quick to speak his mind. The man has to know that Jon will look craven if he rushes back to Winterfell while his wife-to-be and brother-in-law go to war.

Daenerys orders Ser Barristan to send a raven to Arianne to inform her of their plans. There isn’t a Maester here, he’s just realized. Not a single one in sight. He wonders if the siblings have a prejudice toward maesters.

With everything settled, the meeting is adjourned. 

The others file out, even Daenerys who he assumed would stay behind to speak with him alone, but from the conversation he overhears, she’s going to see the little scribe. Viserys does stay behind, however. He asks Davos to give them privacy and Jon lets the man know it’s fine. 

Once he’s gone, Viserys leans on the table, his arms crossed. “Daenerys is a very bright woman,” he starts, his tone clipped. “If she finds out your secret on her own, she’s going to be rather cross with you. You do not want to start your marriage on a bad footing.” 

Jon sizes Viserys up. Even he can’t deny the man is comely and gives off an air of superiority.

Is Jon intimidated? No.

He’s seen giants, dead men, and Ghost rip someone’s throat out; he’s ripped out someone’s throat while he was inside Ghost. He is, however, aware that if he makes an enemy out of Viserys he’s going to have one hell of a time for the rest of his life. 

“Do you know what my secret is?” Jon asks, baiting him. He thinks the man just assumes he has a secret and wants to frighten Jon into spilling it. 

“I know most of your secrets.” Smirking, Viserys stands up straight. “We may be leaving Dorne in a couple of days. You should enjoy your time here while you can.” 

Jon steps forward, getting in the man’s face. “Are you threatening me?” he asks. 

Viserys’s eyes dance over his face. “The likeness is uncanny…” He takes a step back. “I only want you to enjoy the place where you were born. Well, not the actual place but the country.” 

If Jon were a green boy his knees would be buckling and his face would reveal the whirl of emotions that are currently bombarding him. But he plays it cool. 

“I’m a Snow,” he says. “Not a Sand.” 

“You’re neither, and you know it.” Jon opens his mouth to deny that but Viserys covers his mouth with a slender finger. “You should tell Daenerys before she puts the pieces together on her own, dear nephew.” 

Viserys leaves the room before Jon can form a single sentence let alone a word. 

How in the fuck does he know that? How long has he known? Jon looks at the open door that Viserys just walked out of. He should’ve denied his claim. He should’ve said anything. But his silence has confirmed it. If Viserys knows the truth then why isn’t he treating Jon like a threat? 

The law dictates that Jon is the rightful heir to the throne. Does Viserys also know that Jon is less concerned with the throne and more concerned with the power the title of “King of the Seven Kingdoms” will bestow on him? He’ll have the power to summon the greatest army the known world has ever seen and march them north of the wall. Ruling a rat-infested city has never been his desire. 

Jon has so many questions about Viserys now. Most of all, he wonders why the man hasn’t told Daenerys the truth himself. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

It’s the night before they set sail to Dragonstone. 

For the past two days, Viserys has thrown himself into preparations for the upcoming battle with the pretender’s forces. He’s even done a few spells to ensure they don’t encounter any storms, and that the winds will be on their side throughout the journey. 

Meanwhile, Daenerys and Jacaerys have been spending more time together alone from what his spies tell him. His sister may even sail with him for most of the journey and then arrive to the battle on dragon back. 

At the feast that’s held, Viserys drinks a lot and actually dances with a lot of people; both are things he normally avoids. But he doesn’t get the chance to dance with the person he wants to dance with. At least Daemon will be fighting alongside them. Arianne has sent the men she promised and has ordered Daemon to serve as their Captain. 

The man was present during the feast but after Viserys danced with a young, pretty man, the knight left the hall. 

Humming a tune under his breath, Viserys walks down the corridor where his chamber lies. Daenerys retired early, and Jacaerys was absent from the feast. He knows the two are more than likely together. He hopes that his nephew tells her the truth soon or he’ll have to intervene yet again. 

He’s nearing his room when he notices someone standing by his door. Truthfully, he expects it to be Jacaerys. The man has tried to speak with him for days but Viserys has been avoiding him. He knows Jacaerys wants to know how Viserys knows of his true parentage, and he’s certain Jacaerys thinks he intends to use that information against him somehow. But that’s obviously not the case at all or he would’ve made his move already. 

Noticing the lack of dark curls and beard, Viserys blinks hard and adjusts his gaze. It’s not Jacaerys. It’s Daemon. 

The man looks pissed. 

Viserys tries to think of anything he might’ve done or said in the past two days. Nothing comes up. 

“Ser,” he says, opening the door to this chamber while Daemon glares at him. One of them smells strongly of Dornish wine. He can’t be sure which is the culprit. “May I assist you with anything?” 

Daemon sucks his teeth, and shoves Viserys into the chamber, slamming the door behind him. It happens so fast that Viserys is momentarily stunned, and a little excited. 

“At every feast, you always turn others down,” Daemon says, his words slurred and angry. It would appear they’ve both acted out of character at the feast tonight. “You only dance with Queen Daenerys…” 

That’s true. Once he danced with Missandei before sending her off to bed; it was her nameday, well the nameday she chose since she doesn’t know her true nameday. Otherwise, he only dances with noblewomen after they repeatedly beg him. Since he’s been in Dorne, however, he’s turned everyone down. 

Except for tonight. 

“...the women, I didn’t mind them.” Daemon waves his hands dismissively. “I know you like women too but none of them was your type-” 

Viserys chuckles. “What’s my type of woman, ser?” he asks, walking over to his bed and sitting down. He begins to untie his jerkin, thinking that once Daemon finishes he’ll storm off. “Since you appear to know me so well.” 

“Princess Arianne,” Daemons says without missing a beat. “Queen Daenerys is also your type though you may deny it.”

“So, you made a lucky guess.” Of course, he’s naturally attracted to women like that. “Where are you going with this, ser? I’d like to rest before we set sail tomorrow.” 

Daemon approaches the bed, his blue eyes crystalized. He’s incredibly sexy when he’s pissed. “Then you danced with that green boy!” he says, raising his voice. “That pillow biting cunt!” 

Viserys has to hold in his laughter. Gods, Daemon is actually jealous. 

“Lower your voice, ser,” he says, feigning annoyance just to further rile the man. “You are addressing your king.” 

As he soon learns, Drunk Daemon isn’t the honorable and obedient man that Sober Daemon is. The knight approaches the bed, shoves Viserys on his back, and straddles him. Viserys obviously allows him to get the upper hand because he really wants to see how angry Daemon really is. 

Call him sick, but he’s really turned on right now. Daemon reeks of wine, his face is red, and his eyes are now watery. 

“Why did you dance with him?” Daemon asks, no demands of him, his accent thicker thanks to the wine. “Why him when you know he wishes to share your bed?” He grips the sheets near Viserys’s head as his eyes search for an answer. “Are you trying to drive me mad?” 

“You’re the one who said you only wished for us to be companions.” 

“Damn you, Viserys!” 

Viserys grabs Daemon by the neck and pushes him off. He rolls the man to his back and gets on top of him. Even if this is quite enjoyable to him, he can’t allow further disrespect. “You come to my chamber and yell at me,” he says dragging his hand up the column of Daemon’s neck, cupping it under his chin. “Now you dare to address me by name. Do you wish to die, ser?” 

“I’d rather die than see you dance with that cunt again,” Daemon says, still angry, still staring at Viserys as though he wanted to punch him. 

He might as well go ahead and tell Viserys that he loves him at this point. At least, that’s how Viserys feels, that’s why his heart is beating violently in his chest as he stares into Daemon’s eyes. Is this love? Or is Daemon just drunk, horny, and confused? 

“As if I’d be interested in a twink, please,” Viserys says, relaxing on top of the man. He never thought he’d finally get to hold Daemon. 

Daemon frowns. “A...what?” 

Of course, the man has no idea what that term means. 

“I do not fancy small-bodied men,” he says, explaining the best way he can to someone of this time. “If I can break or bend anyone easily, they bore me. That’s why I prefer men like you.” He cups the side of Daemon’s face, his thumb brushing his bottom lip. “So, you don’t have to be jealous.” 

“Promise me you won’t dance with any other men.” 

Viserys laughs. “Why should I promise that? I’m unwed, I have no lovers and no prospective lovers. Why can’t I dance with whomever I like?”

“Because the next man you dance with will wake up with a dozen scorpions in his bed.”

“Oh, Daemon, you can’t say shit like that to me.” Because he really likes to hear shit like that. As he’s stated before, he’s a sick individual. Get over it. “Sounds to me like you want me all to yourself yet you keep denying me.” 

Daemon looks away from him. His face has gotten even redder if that’s possible. “I only wish to protect my heart. You royals toy with us however you like then discard us.” His eyes fall shut, his thick, lashes fluttering. “But sometimes I want you so badly that I’m willing to suffer the consequences.” 

“I can’t promise you forever, Daemon.” 

“I know.” 

“I can only assure you that the feelings are mutual,” he says, making Daemon look at him. Their gazes meet. “And that you don’t have to be jealous of anyone. People should honestly be jealous of you as you’re the only one I want.” 

Viserys wonders if he’s turning into a sap. He would break his fuckboy code for a man he can never have a future with. Classic Viserys falling for someone unattainable. He’s a fucking glutton for punishment. He’s making a terrible mistake and he should take back what he said.

Then Daemon kisses him, and Viserys decides that being a sap isn’t so bad. He’s had a good, long run in his own time, fucking and ditching people. Perhaps it’s time for him to settle down for a bit. 

If he’s thinking like that all because of a kiss, he hates to see how he’ll act when he gets to fuck Daemon. Tonight won’t be the night, though, and he’s fine with that. 

Kissing Daemon keeps him content because Daemon is actually a good kisser. It’s a tad messy cause drunk people tend to kiss that way, but there is passion and longing in the action. Viserys nibbles on Daemon’s lips as the knight’s hands wander up and down his back, down his backside. He bites down hard when Daemon grips his ass and brings their erections together. 

Daemon licks his bloody lip, and they continue kissing, the taste of blood on their tongues. Somewhere in between, they help each other out of their tops so that their bare chests can touch. That small action changes the atmosphere greatly. 

Viserys kisses down Daemon’s neck, sucking on the skin here and there, leaving marks; _his_ marks. Daemon keeps a strong hold on Viserys’s hips as they rock in unison, both enjoying the delicious friction of their clothed cocks rubbing together. He hasn’t gotten off from frottage since he was in bloody junior high. Now how here he is, an adult, losing his shit from what he deems vanilla sex. 

But it’s kind of nice having Daemon’s breathy moans in his ear as they work toward their end. He doesn’t like cumming in his pants as though he were some novice, however. Everything building up to post-orgasm was phenomenal, though. Daemon manages a few lazy kisses before he’s snoring softly. 

“Next time I’m going to fuck you into a coma,” Viserys says to the sleeping man. 

He goes to wash himself off and change into new trousers, something light. As he’s returning to bed with the hopes of cuddling his boyfriend—he has a dragon and a boyfriend now! Look at him! — there’s a soft knock at his door. 

Viserys knows that knock. 

“Dany?” he asks as he opens the door. “What’s wrong?” 

Daenerys looks over his shoulder at his bed where Daemon is sleeping. “Is now a bad time?” she asks. 

“Never for you. Give me a moment.”

He goes to find a shirt to put on and gives Daemon a lingering glance before he leaves the room. They walk down the corridor to the sitting room. Daenerys is still dressed in the blue gown she wore at the feast but she’s wearing a pair of leggings underneath as though she were going to spar or perhaps a ride on Drogon. 

“Is something wrong, sister?” 

“I know it’s late but can you tell me more about Robert’s Rebellion?” she asks, her tone serious. “More specifically, I want to know about Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. You said they were in the Tower of Joy….” 

Viserys knew that Daenerys would use everything he told her plus her visions in the House of the Undying to piece together who Jon Snow is, but she seems to need more proof before she makes a move. He told his nephew to go ahead and tell her before this happened. It looks like he didn't listen. 

“Yes, they were at the tower.” 

“Did they have a child?” 

“They said the child died along with its mother in the birthing bed.” 

“But we know that we can’t always believe what people say.” 

“Dany, where is this coming from? Why are you thinking about this now?” 

Daenerys’s expression is blank, her eyes as empty as they were the night she walked into the flames of Drogo’s pyre. “You always know which path to take. I’ve never questioned your judgment, I never asked you how you knew things that most people didn’t.” She sighs and her shoulders sag. “Brother, I do not care if you are a sorcerer or if you’re tampering with forces unknown as you’ve always looked out for me and our goals.” 

Viserys is at a loss for words. Of course, he knows that his sister is perceptive and quick on the uptake, but he never expected her to approach this particular subject this way. 

“You know the answer to what I’m about to ask you,” she continues, looking him dead in the eye. “So just tell me truthfully. Is Jon Snow that babe that supposedly died in childbirth?” 

“He is.” 

Closing her eyes, Daenerys drops her head. “How long have you known?” she asks. Then she shakes her head. “Don’t tell me. I suppose you had your reasons for not telling me.” 

“Daenerys, there are a lot of things that I can’t tell you unless you ask me directly.” 

“I know. You’ve told me this before.” She opens her eyes. “I have another question.” 

Viserys nods. 

“You made me burn glass candles nightly. Did you know that I would dream of him?” 

Did she already figure that out as well, too? 

“Yes, I did. Your paths were always meant to cross.” 

“So I never had a chance with you, did I?” She smiles sadly. “Don’t answer that, either. I no longer desire you in that way. I think I just misinterpreted your kindness because the men around me were never kind unless they wanted something from me, but you were always different. You see me as your sister and nothing more.” 

“Dany, I’m sor-” 

Daenerys shakes her head. “It’s okay. I’m grateful to you for that. It’s thanks to you that I know how I want to be treated, how I deserve to be treated.” 

Honestly, Viserys thought once he formally rejected her she would be angry with him and their relationship would be ruined which was partially why he’s been so eager for her to meet Jacaerys. However, his little sister has proved him wrong. She’s far more sensible and mature than he was at eight and ten for sure. 

Then again, she did have a fine role model. 

“What will you do now that you know?” he asks. 

Daenerys walks to the door, her brows furrowed. “I’m not sure but this will be handled before the sun rises,” she says, opening the door and walking out. 

It feels like his daughter just moved out of the house and is now going to provide for herself from now on. Either he’s still drunk or he’s grown softer since he’s been here because Viserys feels like crying. He returns to his room and gets in bed beside Daemon who’s still fast asleep. He curls up beside him and finally gets to sleep peacefully knowing that all of his hard work will pay off in the end.

* * *

_**303 AC - Jon, Lord Snow, King of the North, Bastard of Winterfell** _

He missed the feast.

Actually, he made a point not to show up to it even after he told Ser Davos that he would pop in later. Instead, he rode out to the beach, far away from the palace, and from anyone who may bother him. There isn’t a tree or a post nearby so he swings Longclaw at the air as though he were facing an invisible foe. His mare is laying down on the sand, watching him fight the wind. 

All of his plans are going to shit right before his eyes.

Now that it’s clear Viserys knows the truth, Jon has just been waiting for the man to make a move and reveal it to everyone. But Viserys hasn’t made any outward moves, he hasn’t even made an attempt to blackmail Jon. As for Daenerys, every time he tries to tell her they end up kissing or losing themselves in some mundane conversation.

He came here with one clear goal in mind, with no intention of revealing his parentage. He never wanted to make this about a fight for the throne or him reclaiming what he sees as his. None of that matters to him. What matters is saving the realm or at least he that used to be the _only_ thing that mattered to him. 

Jon sticks his sword into the sand and laughs dryly. Here he is, the king of the largest region in the realm, a man who cheated death, and he’s out here swinging a sword around in the dark like an angry child all because he’s falling in love. 

Now he’s thinking about having a family and having a life to return to after all the fighting is done. He wanted to fight to keep the realm safe, now he wants to fight to keep his future with Daenerys safe. 

Why does he have to be the one to lead the army over the wall? Why can’t he just marry Daenerys and rule peacefully with her? He’s so tired of fighting, it feels as if he’s been fighting before he even understood what it meant to draw a sword. 

Yes, the idea of sitting on some uncomfortable throne giving orders has never sat well with him, but he knows that with Daenerys it wouldn’t be that. They’d change the realm for the better, they’d get their own hands dirty, and work until their own bones were tired. 

“Perhaps you are my blood, after all. You seem mad enough.” 

Pulling his sword out of the sand, Jon pivots on his feet and spins around in time to parry. Daenerys comes at him again, this time swiping at his legs with the long spear. Jumping, he evades the attack and brings his sword down. She parries and thrusts upward with all of her might, forcing him to stagger back. But he doesn’t fall. He sidesteps and attacks her side, but she spins around in time to block. 

She’s good, he absently thinks. Although, he can tell that she started her training later than most. Then again, if she were trying to kill him, she’d probably put more effort into her attacks. The same goes for him. 

“Is there a reason why you’re attacking me, your grace?” he asks in a teasing lilt. 

Daenerys spins the spear over her head before charging forward. “I’m angry with you, obviously.” She avoids a swipe of his sword by ducking low, flipping the spear behind her back to ensure the sharp end is pointed at him. She thrusts it forward with a grunt. “Answer me truthfully. Have you come here to take the throne from under our noses?” 

As surprising as the question is, Jon doesn’t lose his footing or waver. He parries, attacks, and parries again. “Would you believe me if I told you that was never my intention?” 

“Then why didn’t you tell us?” she asks, her voice curiously calm. She ducks and rolls to evade and thrusts her spear upward to block. “Why else have you risked your life coming to Dorne?” 

The more they fight, the more Jon wants her. A warrior princess, he long decided. He prefers warrior women over willowy creatures that wait around to be saved. 

“Because I want to marry you.” 

“Liar!” Daenerys puts more force into her next attack, and the staff of the spear hits his arm. She doesn’t back down. “You came here to use me. For what, I do not know!” 

Jon stops attacking but sticks to parrying and blocking. “That’s true,” he says, seeing no reason to continue pretending. “I came here for my own selfish reasons, but I’m staying because of you, Daenerys.” 

The use of her name gives her pause. But he knows better than to think that’ll satisfy her. She charges forward again. As she attacks him, Jon thinks about how beautiful she looks with the moonlight kissing her skin and hair, and the way her lilac eyes are full of fury. 

Would he be so bad to let her rough him around a little? Gods, he truly is mad if that sort of thing excites him. He catches himself smiling before he can stop himself. 

Daenerys, of course, takes it as an insult. 

She swipes her spear at him, and he allows her to knock his sword out of his hand. When she thrusts forward, aiming for his stomach, he grabs the spear and snatches it away from her, casting it aside. Still, that isn’t enough to stop her, she’s so pissed at him. She tackles him to the sand and he feels like the luckiest man in the world to have her straddling him and looking down on him as though she wants to rip his throat out. 

“You’re a stupid man!” she says, eyes watering. “Do you think it wise to toy with a dragon’s heart? Do you deem me so weak that you think I’d allow you to deceive me and live to boast about it?” 

“Are you angry with me for keeping the truth from you or are you angry because you think all the times I kissed you were a lie?” 

“Both.” Daenerys stares into his eyes. “You were never going to tell me, were you?” 

“I never planned on it. Did Viserys tell you?” 

“He confirmed it. I put the pieces together myself.” 

Then it’s fate. 

There was no point in him burning Howland’s letter because it was meant for Daenerys and Viserys to know the truth. There’s no point in fighting it any longer. Even if he has a mountain of questions, and he’s bitter because the mistreatment he endured at the hands of Catelyn Stark was misplaced, what can be done about it now?

He’ll never forgive his uncle for keeping it from him, but he won’t act as if finally knowing the truth doesn’t bring him a bit of joy, as well. 

“So, what now?” Jon asks. “Are you going to have me killed? Will you call off our marriage and punish the north for my crimes?” 

Daenerys gets off of him. “I want you to ride somewhere with me,” she says, already walking off to her white mare that’s standing next to his horse. “If you truly wish to be with me, you won’t flee.” 

Jon has no intention of fleeing as he’s never been a man to run away from anything. 

He follows her away from the beach in the opposite direction of where the palace lies. They ride through the small, elevated jungle and higher up to the base of a red mountain range. Daenerys rides like a woman who spent a great deal of time with a khalasar, and she uses a spear as though she personally trained with her Unsullied. He’s interested in seeing how she works a sword.

They dismount on top of a cliff. Feeling heat settle in his bones, Jon looks up at the sky instinctively. Then he hears a far off screech then the flapping of giant wings. 

“Viserys and I have already claimed our mounts,” Daenerys says, keeping her eyes on him. “If you are truly Rhaegar’s son then you will be able to claim a dragon of your own.” 

Heart pounding violently, Jon's eyes widen a fraction as the creature comes into full view. Even under the night sky, its jade green scales are vibrant. It’s bigger than anything he’s ever seen, more terrifying and beautiful than he ever imagined. When it lands on the cliff, the ground beneath Jon’s feet tremble and he staggers. 

Daenerys walks up to him, removing a whip from her hip. He was so busy fighting her that he never paid attention to it. She hands it to him. 

“It took me a day to tame Drogon. Viserys, my noble and brave brother, needed far longer. Do you have what it takes to claim Rhaegal, the dragon named after your 'father' before we sail in the morning?” 

Taking the whip, Jon blinks hard at her. “You’re giving me until dawn?” If it took Viserys a week, surely it’ll take him longer. “You and your brother have been around the dragons since they hatched. I am a stranger.” 

“You may be a stranger, but your blood isn’t,” she says. Turning away from him, she walks back to her horse that hasn’t moved out of its spot, unlike his horse that has already run away in fright. “I will be very disappointed if you die out here. Come back to me, Jon Snow.” 

Jon watches her ride off into the night. He always thought the wildling women had peculiar courting practices, but Valyrian women take the cake. 

Then he returns his attention to the dragon. Rhaegal, that’s its name, right? The heat that radiates off the creature could melt all the snow in the north, he thinks. But even that body heat is a flickering flame compared to the heat of its flames. 

He likes to think he’s faced worst though he knows that’s a lie. One wrong move and his ashes will be carried away by the wind, never to be seen from again. Or perhaps he’ll be eaten. Didn’t he have an ancestor who met a similar fate? Jon wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. 

Well, that’s not true. He fed Ramsay to Ghost. Had he had a dragon, he would’ve fed the man to his dragon. 

Cautiously, he approaches Rhaegal. 

As soon as he moves, the dragon roars and swipes its tail at him. Jon barely rolls out of the way in time. Had he been a second too late he would’ve been knocked off the cliff; he’d be crushed. There’s no way around it. He has to show this dragon that he’s worthy. 

Uncurling the whip, he cracks it on the rocks as a warning. However, that only angers the creature further. It opens its mouth. Jon can see the flames building in its throat, and he rolls out of the way just in time. Breaking out in a sweat, he quickly rolls his tunic over his head and throws it aside. 

Cracking the whip again, he waits for it to open its mouth then he hits it before it can form fire. Rhaegal screeches, the very sound rattling Jon’s bones. 

“You will accept me,” Jon shouts, closing in on the dragon again. “When they take flight into battle against the one who calls himself Aegon, I will fly with them.” He cracks the whip. 

Rhaegal seems to understand his words because from that moment on, he resists Jon at every turn and tries to burn him every chance he gets as if to prove him wrong. The beast is stubborn. 

Just like Jon. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons** _

“This is a violation of our treaty!” Ser Davos Seaworth yells as two Unsullied hold him back. “We came here to discuss peace yet you’ve set his grace up to die!” He struggles against the Unsullied as the other Northmen try to break through the Dornish forces. 

Daenerys stares up at the skies, waiting. 

She wonders if perhaps leaving Jon out there alone was the wrong decision. No. Had she stayed with him she would’ve intervened, she would’ve stopped Rhaegal from killing him and that would defeat the purpose of what she’s trying to prove. 

Their ships are boarded and prepared to sail.

Before dawn, she and Viserys slaughtered two sheep and fed them to their mounts to prepare for the journey. She told her brother about what she did and she expressed her second thoughts but Viserys assured her that everything would be alright.

But now that dawn has passed and there’s still no sign of Jon, she has her doubts. 

His advisor and the men he brought along are rightfully angry with her. If their king dies, they will want her dead. Of course, she can have them all killed, but that’s not the point. She endangered Jon’s life. She’s endangered the life of the man she loves. 

“Put them on the ship,” Viserys orders their men. “We can’t waste time standing around here. We must make it to Dragonstone before the pretender does.” 

Daenerys frowns deeply as she watches Ser Davos and the other northerners forced on a ship. They had their swords taken when they arrived at the Water Gardens so they’re incapable of fighting back. She can see the hatred on their faces. 

“If he were dead,” Viserys says as they board their own ship, “Rhaegal would’ve returned by now.” 

He’s right.

Once they’re on the ship, Daenerys finds Missandei and they sit together on the deck, watching Drogon and Viserion fly ahead of the ships. Viserys is speaking with their ship’s captain. She thought Daemon Sand would sail with them, but the man is sticking with the forces Arianne sent. It looks like both she and her brother will be lovesick the entire journey. 

They’re going to war, after all. They shouldn’t be concerned with matters of the heart, anyway. 

Still...

“Don’t cry, your grace,” Missandei says, wiping a tear from Daenerys's face. 

Daenerys smiles sadly at her.

Then she hears a screech in the distance. Her heart thuds at the sound, hope filling her. Standing, she turns around and looks up. All around her, the men on the other boats are looking up as well. At the first sight of green, a smile breaks out on her face, and it grows rider when she sees dark curls blowing in the wind. 

Jon and Rhaegal fly lower, passing by their ship. As he passes, Jon looks at her with a smug expression that she’ll wipe off his face later. With kisses, of course. 

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there will only be 1 more chapter left of this. I had too much fun writing it so it ended up being longer. Thanks for reading my self-indulgent crack au lol! I finally get to write a canonverse Jonerys wedding ^_^
> 
> For anyone who cares, I will be working on Blood of my Blood next!


	3. The End

_**** _

_**303 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

Gods, the gold dragons Viserys would pay to see the look on the false Aegon’s face when they rode into battle on dragons. 

Not just him and Daenerys as it was when they met Euron Greyjoy in battle, but it was all three of them. As a boy, Viserys would read tales about his family riding dragons into war and he always wondered what it would be like to be high in the sky as fire rained down on those below, cooking them in their armor. 

It was fucking biblical. 

They met the pretender’s forces on the shores of Dragonstone while a smaller host led by Daemon Sand took Dragonstone from the bandits who were holding up there.

Once their banners were hoisted from the castle, and false Aegon and his troops realized that in order to get to the castle, they’d have to cut down their armies as well as their dragons, they retreated. 

“We should wipe them all out now,” Jacaerys shouted from atop Rhaegal, his mount ready to chase the retreaters down and finish them. 

Daenerys looked as though she wanted to do the same. But Viserys stopped them both. 

“No,” he said, shouting loud enough for his voice to overcome the high winds. “We’ve won this battle. Soon, this war will be won but not in the way you think.” 

With reluctance, his sister and nephew followed his orders and they retreated as well.

It was as if the dragons knew that they were at the closest place to home compared to Old Valyria. The dragons flew them over the Dragonmont, circling around the volcano as their triumphant screeches rang in the air. 

Naturally, after a victory and returning to a place vital to his family’s place in Westeros, Viserys is downright horny once they’re inside the castle. 

But of course, he can’t just steal Daemon away just yet. 

“I hope you made a good call back there,” Jacaerys says to him once they're inside the castle. “We should’ve ended it while we had the chance.” 

“I imagine an envoy will be here in the coming days,” Viserys says. He’s partially using future knowledge for this. He knows that an important event happens prior to the union of Jacaerys and Daenerys, and the important event is what solidifies Jacaery as Rhaegar’s trueborn son. “He will want to convince us to join him in taking back the throne.” 

“He has to know we won’t accept. We have the upper hand.” 

Viserys casts a glance around them to make sure there are no eavesdroppers. Their men are going throughout the castle, ensuring all outside forces are gone whilst the servants they brought along are preparing their chambers. Daenerys is in the throne room with Barristan and Missandei. 

Viserys says, “He does know that we won’t accept but he isn’t banking on that.” 

“Then what he’s banking on?” 

“That you’ll accept his challenge. He’s been trained to be a king since he was a child. That training included swordplay and hand to hand combat. I’m sure he believes he could defeat you easily.” 

As Viserys expected, Jacaerys takes the news positively though with natural suspicion. “If he gives the challenge, I’ll accept, and I’ll kill him in front of our men and his.” He eyes Viserys closely, his grey eyes piercing. “How do you know so much, uncle? Are you secretly a Red Priest.” 

“Does it matter?” Viserys gives his nephew a once over. They’re both in full armor still; minus their helmets, of course, and smell of fire, blood, and sweat. He looks at the sword on his nephew’s hip. He touches the direwolf pommel. “This sword has passed through many hands. But do you know its true origins?” 

“It once belonged to House Mormont.” 

Viserys smiles. “Can you guess who it belonged to first?” he asks, taking a step closer so that they're a mere inch apart. People bustle past them, too busy with their own work to pay them any mind. “I’ll give you a hint.” 

Jacaerys regards Viserys with a serious expression. “Are you a sorcerer?” he asks plainly. 

Disregarding the question, he gives the hint. “You and the original owner are related. Well, by marriage at least considering her son never fathered any children.” 

It takes less than a minute for the realization to dawn on Jacaerys. He’s sharp. He glances down at the sword then back at Viserys. Yes, the sword he’s had all this time is none other than Dark Sister. 

“Impossible,” he says. 

“Haven’t you learned yet that anything is possible, nephew?” 

Jacaerys stares at him, his expression unreadable. Then he breaks out in a low chuckle. “I did come back from the dead so I can hardly be a skeptic now.” He sighs heavily. “I must admit I’m curious about you but I’ve learned not to poke my nose in everything. You’re on our side. I don’t care how you know these things as long as you keep leading us on the right path.” 

“I only wish to see my family succeed. You are my family.” 

His nephew’s eyes soften considerably, and it makes Viserys wonder how badly Jacaerys has wanted to hear that. How long has his nephew yearned for acceptance? 

“The pretender will challenge me, huh,” Jacaerys smirks darkly. “I can’t wait.” 

Viserys smiles. “Neither can I.” 

Afterward, they go their separate ways. While his nephew makes his way to the throne room, Viserys goes in search of Daemon.

Their men are in high spirits. They’ve been itching for another battle after the encounter with Euron and his men. The Ironborn are useless on land, but Euron gave them one hell of a fight due to the aid of his captured warlocks, and the dragonbinder. 

It was more a battle of dark magic versus corrupt magic; Viserys versus a demonic Euron who’d used blood sacrifices to overpower himself. Their armies fought on the ground, his sister fought in the skies, and Viserys and Euron fought in an arena of their minds. 

Naturally, Viserys was victorious. But only because he had help from his ancestors. 

They were there in spirit. 

Daemon is helping his men set up tents for the soldiers to sleep within the castle’s grounds. Instead of just sitting pretty on his horse and shouting orders, he’s getting his hands dirty. It’s one thing he likes about Daemon. 

Too bad Viserys has more important matters for Daemon to tend to. 

“Ser Daemon,” he says, not in the usual casual tone he uses when they’re alone. He speaks to him like the king he is. “Your immediate presence is required.” 

Daemon knows that Viserys doesn’t have anything important to say but he isn’t going to make a fuss in front of so many of his men. He orders them to have all of the tents up before nightfall and to behave themselves, to remember that though they are guests here. 

“You’re so dutiful,” Viserys says to Daemon once they’re walking the corridors of the castle. 

“Someone has to be.” 

“Are you suggesting that I’m not a dutiful man?” 

Daemon casts a wary glance over his shoulder. “You’ve stolen away a Commander from his men for your own personal enjoyment.” 

“If you don’t want to see what I have for you then by all means return to your men, ser.” 

“You have something for me?” Daemon asks, intrigued. “Well, why didn’t you just say that?” 

Viserys chuckles. 

They go to the chamber that’s been set aside for him. It’s in the largest wing of the castle that’s cut off from everywhere else. They even have to access a small bridge to reach this side. Inside the chamber, a fire is lit and a tub of hot steaming water awaits them. He’s always been fascinated by the servants’ efficiency.

Even his trunks have been brought from the ship to his room just as he requested. Walking over to the biggest one, he kneels in front of it. 

“I know you have your own mail,” Viserys says as he takes the gift out, “but this is made from a far superior substance.” It’s made from the same metal rings as typical chain mail but it’s infused with his blood. “We have a big battle to face soon…” 

Daemon carefully takes the chain mail, eyeing it curiously. “It looks like the mail I already have.” He pauses, weighing it in his hands. “It feels lighter, though.” 

“That’s because it is.” 

“So, how can it be superior.” 

“Because it is.” 

“Why are you giving me this? You should wear it.” Daemon hands it back. “Your life is far more important than mine.” 

Viserys doesn’t accept. “It’s my gift to you. Please take it.” He knows Daemon is a fine warrior but he doesn’t want to risk it. All of his attention will be on his sister and nephew in the upcoming battle so he won’t be able to save Daemon if needed. “I will feel better whilst on my mount if I know that you’re safe below.”  
  
Daemon looks as if he’s at a loss for words. He looks from the chain mail to Viserys to the chain mail again. Then he walks over to the bed and puts the chain mail down. Sighing, Viserys prepares to tell Daemon to stop being so stubborn. But then Daemon walks up to him and kisses him. 

“Thank you, your grace,” Daemon says, grateful. “I will fight harder than ever now.” 

“We should wash up while the water’s hot,” Viserys simpers. 

Daemon knows that’s just an excuse to get him out of his armor and small clothes but he doesn’t protest. They take turns undoing the other’s breastplate. Viserys asks about the taking of the castle from the bandits, and while Daemon recounts the story they sink into the hot tub. Daemon has hit back to Viserys’s chest though he tried to sit across from him to avoid being washed as though he were some “babe.” 

Daemon just likes to pretend he doesn’t care for affection. Viserys knows better, however. It isn’t long before Daemon is relaxing against him, allowing Viserys to wash him. 

“What is our next plan of action?” Daemon asks, resting his head on Viserys’s shoulder with a sigh. “You should’ve cut the enemy down while you had the chance.” 

The last thing Viserys wants to talk about now are strategies and battle plans. “Surely there are other things we can discuss while sitting in a tub ass naked.” He caresses Daemon’s abdomen. 

Daemon chuckles. “I know exactly what you’d rather discuss, your grace…” 

Viserys sinks his hand into the water, brushing it over the man’s growing erection. It’s thick, and from what he can tell, is a length that can get the job done. It crosses his mind to relent on his “no bottoming” policy, but remembering his past experiences make it a fleeting thought. 

He fists Daemon’s cock, giving it a hard yet slow tug as he begins lightly nipping on the flesh of his neck. With his other hand, he caresses Daemon’s hard chest, twisting a nipple between his fingers. That pulls a louder sound out of Daemon that’s akin to a needy whimper. 

Viserys hums. “Now that’s a sound I’ve never heard you make.” He twists Daemon’s nipple again, glad to be rewarded with that sound again. “I wonder what other sounds you can make…” 

He starts to stoke Daemon with purpose now, unraveling the usually serious man to see what lies beneath his gallant nature. Daemon bites his lip and grips the edge of the tub to keep himself from responding the way Viserys wants. 

Smiling to himself, Viserys drops his hand from Daemon’s chest to the hot water. He slips it between Daemon’s cheeks before he can notice a thing. 

Daemon stiffens, but he doesn’t resist. He waits. 

“Relax your muscles,” Viserys instructs, stroking slowly. 

He only gets one finger in but that’s enough to give him a prelude to how satisfying it’ll be to fuck Daemon. 

Daemon is more responsive than he assumed he’d be and It’s a pity that he doesn’t have any oil nearby or he would’ve tried to fuck him now. But he’s satisfied with what he’s given. Daemon turns his head and they share a messy, heated kiss. He bites Viserys’s bottom lip when he releases, and the pain mixed with the pleasure that comes from satisfying someone else is the sweetest thing. 

Daemon sags against, breathing heavily. 

Viserys cleans him up again, then they get out of the tub and dry off. He gives Daemon a tunic and trousers to wear. Getting on the bed, he sniffs around out of habit. 

“Do you think the servants left you a surprise?” Daemon asks, humor clear in his voice. 

“You can never be sure unless you check…” Viserys just prefers fresh bedding, and he has a feeling this bedding isn’t so fresh. 

Daemon gets on the bed with him, taking his attention away from his task of inspecting the bedding. The knight lays him on the bed and moves between his legs. Viserys kisses him without thought. He imagines when they journey to Winterfell for the wedding, they’ll travel on their dragons for a faster trip. Daemon and the others will take a much longer route. 

Then from there, they will meet with their forces and head to King’s Landing. Once the city is taken, Viserys will tackle the issue beyond the wall, and then that’s it for him. 

“I want to hear the sounds you make,” Daemon says, his eyes heavy. He touches the top of Viserys’s trousers. 

“You’re spent,” Viserys says, smiling fondly. “You should rest while you can.” 

Once he’s completed his mission, he’ll have to return to his own world. That means he’ll have to leave Dany, Jacaerys, and Daemon behind. Granted, he has his sister and nephew in his own time but he doesn’t know if Daemon exists there. He’s never met anyone like Daemon or seen anyone who favors him. 

He picked a fine time to think of something so depressing. 

Daemon sits up just enough to tug Viserys’s trousers down. “We can rest together after this....” He lowers himself between Viserys’s thighs, wasting no time taking him into his hot mouth. 

It’s been some time since he’s had a blowjob let alone a good one. 

Normally, he has to be in control at all times. Even during a time like this. He’d keep a hand on the person’s head or a firm grip on their hair, controlling how they move and the pace. But with Daemon he just lays back and let's go. All thoughts about leaving this world and the people he’s created a strong bond with behind leaves his mind for a while. 

All he can think about is the wetness and heat of Daemon’s mouth. 

It’s a future problem for his future self, he decides. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons** _

Daenerys wonders if she’s being silly about all this. 

What good would waiting until they were wed do? Jon wanted to marry her before he discovered the truth about her maidenhead though he had his own agenda. But the topic of her virginity was never an issue for him. It’s quite clear that their feelings, albeit sudden, are real. He wants her badly and vice versa. 

Still, Daenerys always pulls away when their kissing and touching inches closer to crossing the line she’s drawn. She thinks that the rumors people have spread about her bother her more than she would care to admit. Surely after they consummate their marriage it will be known that she remained virtuous until her wedding. 

When did she start caring about things like that? She’s lived in places where sex is embraced, not treated like a duty only meant for married people. There was a time when she was so eager to experience sex that she nearly snuck out to a brothel. Now she has a man who cares for her and she’s being hesitant. 

“I don’t mind waiting,” Jon tells her one night after another session of heavy kissing. They’re inside his chamber. They came straight here after supper, the taste of wine and roasted meat still on their tongues. It’s been three days since they retook Dragonstone. “There are more important things to concern ourselves with.” 

Daenerys puts her arms around Jon’s neck. She’s straddling his lap and he’s holding her by her hips. “Like the pretender’s summons…” 

Jon clenches his jaw. “He really believes we’re going to let you visit his camp alone.” 

“Viserys says Aegon still wants my hand in marriage.” 

“That’s unfortunate for him.” A long pause. “You’re not answering his summons. You are a queen.” 

“I know that better than you do.” She kisses his lips to wipe the frown from his face but it doesn’t go away. “I’ve already sent my reply. I told him to meet me.” Before Jon can voice his opinion, she continues, “along with his most trusted advisors and I told him I would do the same.” 

Viserys has already told her that there is no point in reasoning with Young Griff. The boy has been raised to believe he is Rhaegar’s true son and the heir to the Iron Throne. She considered seeing if his forces would fight for the true Targaryens once their false prince was defeated but her brother warned her that it wouldn’t be so easy. 

“He’s a Blackfyre,” Daenerys tells Jon. “The men who fight for him are loyal to the Blackfyres and wish to return to their homes. Do you think they will fight for us if I grant them their life’s wish?” She thinks it can’t hurt to have two opinions on the matter. 

Viserys has advised her for years yet she can’t deny that she’s curious to know Jon’s thoughts. He has experience with commanding forces and making hard decisions, and he’s meant to rule with her. 

“What does Viserys think?” Jon asks, his eyes full of mirth. “He seems to be the one with all the answers.” 

“My brother has never led me down the wrong path, but I want to know what my intended thinks.” 

“You can’t assume that they’ll fight for you once their leader is dead. Killing him may make them fight harder and stronger than before. And if they’re truly Blackfyre loyalists, do you want them in your ranks?” 

“Then we kill them all…” 

“You sound opposed.” 

Daenerys isn’t opposed, necessarily. She’s just...sometimes she wishes that death wasn’t the only option, that’s all. “Of course I’m not opposed. Fire and Blood.” 

Jon shakes his head. “Don’t feed me that. I won’t think less of you or think you weak if you wish to not kill them all. I think a good leader has to have at least a little compassion but that compassion should never put their men or themselves at risk.” 

“I think it would be a waste to kill them all. The more men we have, the greater our chances of taking King’s Landing.” 

“Doesn’t matter how many men you have. The Red Keep won’t be taken so easily.” 

Daenerys sighs. “I am aware.” She scratches Jon’s beard because she knows he likes it. “We will meet with Aegon on the morrow. Ser Barristan will stay behind. If something happens to us I need him to get Missandei to safety.” 

“May I ask why you brought a child to battle?” 

“I promised her that I would never leave her behind, and Missandei is smarter than you and I combined. She’s a great friend and as well.” 

Jon nods, his expression thoughtful. “She makes me think of my younger siblings. At the very least, I would like to know for sure if Arya is alive or dead. Hell, I would even accept news about Sansa’s whereabouts though we were never close.” 

“Perhaps when the war is over we can look for them together?" 

He gets that look in his eye again. Every time she talks about the war ending, there’s a hint of uncertainty in his eyes as if he’s privy to something that’s lost on her. The look leaves before she can further dissect it. Before she can question him about it, she’s on her back and he’s on top of her, peppering kisses on her face and her exposed cleavage. 

His kisses are dangerous. They always take her mind away from what’s important. 

-o0o-

There’s a small, uninhabitable island off the coast of Dragonstone that’s so insignificant that it doesn’t appear on any maps. Before they were scheduled to meet the pretender there, Daenerys sent scouts to investigate the island. 

According to them, it’s empty aside from small forest creatures. 

They sail to the island on a small boat, their dragons circling high above. At a distance but close enough to burn the entire island if need be. She has no expectations for this meeting with Aegon, Young Griff - whoever he claims to be. The first time she heard of him, there was a strong part of her that wanted him to be real. But now that she knows he’s not, any affection she might’ve had for him is no more. 

Viserys and Jon flank her. The three of them dressed in full armor, their capes flowing in the wind. As they walk up to where the others are waiting, she can see the surprise on Aegon’s face when he sees the three of them. He looks at Jon specifically. 

“Ser Barristan has aged down it would seem,” Varys says, a humorous smile on his fat face. He's referring to Jon being there in the old man's place.

Beside him, Illyrio is smiling as well. 

The men used to remain in the shadows, but now they’re boldly confirming what she’s long suspected. That must mean that they’re confident in their victory. 

Viserys chuckles. “I am sure you are well aware who our new companion is,” he says. “You helped to get his father killed.” 

She didn’t expect her brother to reveal that Jon is their nephew so soon... 

“I assure you I had no part in Ned Stark’s execution,” Varys says, unfazed by the accusation. “It was merely an unfortunate tragedy.” He bows his head. “But you’ve avenged your brother and mother-in-law, I’m told, King Snow.” 

Ah, Viserys was referring to how Varys kept whispering in their father’s ear about Rhaegar. The Spider, in some ways, led to the demise of their family. 

“So, you’re the self-claimed northern king,” Aegon says, stepping forward to inspect Jon. He’s a beautiful man but his beauty isn’t quite the same as hers and Viserys. The blood of Old Valyria may dwell in his body but their blood is not the same. “I hear your father was an honorable man. Tell me, would he side with Rhaegar’s sister or Rhaegar’s son who I might add is the rightful heir to the throne?” 

_Bold son of a bitch_ , Dany thinks. If nothing else he at least acts like a pompous king. 

Jon smirks. “My father was far from honorable. He would’ve done anything to achieve his goals, I assure you.” He sizes Aegon up. From the look on his face, it’s clear he doesn’t find Aegon worth even that. “I’ve already declared where I stand. Did the raven not reach you?” 

“Why did you call this meeting?” Daenerys asks before Jon’s quick tongue turns this peaceful gathering into a bloody affair. 

Aegon tears his eyes away from Jon and turns them on Daenerys. “I make the same offer I’ve made before. It makes no sense for us to be at odds. We should take the throne together as allies, man and woman.” 

“Husband and wife,” Daenerys says. 

“Naturally.” Aegon glances at Viserys. “Do you intend to marry your brother?” He puts his dark blue eyes on Jon again. “Or do you intend to marry the northern king?” 

“I do,” she answers without pause. “I do intend to marry the King in the North.” 

A look passes between Varys and Illyrio, and Aegon lets out an incredulous laugh. 

The false king holds his stomach as though the laughter was overwhelming. “You intend to marry him and not your own blood? The dragons are alive again. They can live longer, lay eggs, and thrive as our family thrives so long as we keep the blood pure!” 

“That’s exactly what I’ll be doing,” Daenerys says without giving too much away. “Is that all you wanted?” 

Varys opens his mouth but Aegon raises a hand to silence him. “If he be worthy of you then he must prove it.” He draws his sword, aiming it at Jon. “Battle me for Daenerys’s hand.” 

“Your grace-” Illyrio starts. 

“Please, your grace-” Varys chimes in as well. 

Both are silenced. 

“Your king is speaking,” Aegon says to the men. He approaches Jon. “Come. Prove your worth, bastard.” 

“That’s ‘your grace’ to you, pretender,” Jon seethes, drawing his sword. 

Viserys stands in between the men. “No,” he says, “the duel will not take place here. It would do better for our armies to bear witness.” 

“What are you playing at?” Varys asks, no longer amused by the situation. Serves him right. 

“Your king wishes to duel the King in the North,” Viserys says. “I am merely giving him an audience. If my dear nephew is worthy of marrying my sister he will prevail and thousands will witness his might.” 

They have no idea that Viserys is referring to Jon, not Aegon. It’s almost comical how Aegon soaks up Viserys’s words so easily. 

“Before the sun sets,” Aegon says, “we will meet on the shores of Dragonstone. You and I. No one shall intervene. You have my word. Give me yours.” 

Jon nods. “No one will intervene. If anyone from my side does, I’ll gut them.” 

That shouldn’t make Daenerys excited, but it does. She loves that side of Jon. 

With no other objections from Varys and Illyrio, the promise is made. Jon and Aegon will battle for her hand, for the right to claim the Iron Throne at her side. 

When they’re on the small boat heading back to the castle, Jon jokingly asks what she’ll do if he loses to Aegon. 

“Will you marry him instead?” Jon asks. 

Daenerys wouldn’t dare. “I will destroy him and his armies then I will find a new lord in Westeros to make my husband. Do you think my life will end with your demise?” she asks, mostly teasing. 

“I would hope not,” he replies. “Perhaps you can even marry Viserys.” 

“You will win,” Viserys says as he stares into the depthless sea. “Once he falls, we mustn’t let Varys and Illyrio escape.” 

She never planned on it. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Jon, Lord Snow, King in the North, Bastard of Winterfell** _

From atop Rhaegal, their armies looked like a scatter of ants during the claim of Dragonstone. 

Being on the ground now, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of armored and armed men from all sides is quite the experience, he must admit. As always, the dragons fly above them, watching and waiting until they’re required. 

At his back, Viserys, Daenerys, Ser Barristan, Ser Davos, Grey Worm, and Qhono are mounted on horses where they’ll remain until the battle is over. Daemon Sand should be among them but prior to leaving the castle, Jon saw Viserys whispering to Daemon. Since then he hasn’t seen Daemon. 

The entirety of their joined forces is lying in wait, their expressions hidden by their helmets. Across the field, Varys and Illyrio watch from horseback as two servants help Aegon into his armor. 

Jon knows that the men will make a run for it the moment Aegon falls. Viserys assures him that they won’t get far, but once the chaos breaks out they’ll be able to slip away easily. He imagines he can ride them down if need be. They’re the ones pulling the strings. They orchestrated this whole thing. Killing them would ensure the Blackfyre legacy dies with them. 

Removing his sword from the ground, he makes his way to the middle of the circle. 

Apparently, Longclaw is actually Dark Sister. Did Mormont know that? He doubts it. He doesn’t want to believe that everything, even the decision for him to go to the wall was all a part of some greater purpose. Overthinking his resurrection and how every moment has brought him to this current moment isn’t going to help him much during this fight. 

It’s said that Aegon has been trained to fight all his life. Well, so has Jon. And he hasn’t only played at war or waited around for someone else to tell him what to do. He has true experience. 

“That’s a fine sword,” Aegon remarks as he approaches wearing black armor with rubies in the chest. His cape is crimson and grand, and he almost looks like Rhaegar’s son. Almost. “Valyrian steel?” 

Jon nods. 

“Do not fret. I will take good care of it once I’ve defeated you.” 

“You talk too much.” 

Jon charges forward without another word. Words are useless on the battlefield. His suddenness startles Aegon, but Aegon doesn’t allow that shock to keep him rooted to the ground like a fool. He spins out of the way of Jon’s attack, pivoting on his feet in time to parry another attack. Their blades kiss, the sound ringing clear in the air for all to hear. 

Then the real battle begins. 

Aegon goes on the offensive, swiping at Jon in quick succession. He’s fast and skilled yet Jon isn’t going to get on his knees and kiss the fucker’s boots. He parries and thrusts hard to drive Aegon back. Then he lunges forward, aiming for the small, exposed area in Aegon’s armor to end it quickly. 

As if reading his mind, Aegon moves out of the way before Jon’s sword can connect. “Did you learn how to fight from butchering weak wildlings?” he asks. He talks with an air of authority that’ll do him no good here. 

The pompousness is only pissing Jon off more. Ignoring the question that is nothing more than a means to rile him up, he moves in for another attack. Aegon has a few openings but they're the kind of openings that one would have when they want to lure an opponent in closer. Aegon probably keeps a dagger on him somewhere. 

Jon has an inkling that it's poisoned as well. Most times they are. There’s also the fact that Aegon believes he’s Oberyn Martell’s nephew. Poisoning his blades could be a homage to an uncle he's never known.

Perhaps he’s overthinking, overanalyzing. But it never hurts to be safe. His analytical mind is what has saved his life more times than he can count. Every time an opening presents itself, Jon doesn’t take it. 

It won’t be that easy, he knows. 

Aegon starts to taunt him again. “You are a bastard born of a craven lord and a nameless whore of a mother,” he says, his tone heavily-laced with bitterness. “How dare you take claim to the Northern throne. How dare you contend with me for the hand of a dragon!” He switches from defense to offense yet again, swinging like a madman. “You will not stand in my way! I’ve waited too long!” 

Sidestepping, Jon parries, pivots, and parries again. “Sounds to me like you have personal issues to sort out,” he says, still focusing on his opponent’s movements. “A craven father and a nameless whore for a mother…” He chuckles. “Are you projecting, Young Griff?” 

“I am the son of-” 

“Prince Rhaegar,” Jon says, cutting in rudely. He continues to parry and evade to make Aegon comfortable, to make him think he’s winning. “And Princess Elia. You’ve only said it a thousand times. How could I forget…” 

“Insolent bastard!” 

Aegon makes use of his left hand finally, now holding his sword with both hands. He’s exhausted. He doesn’t know how to save his energy until it's truly a life or death situation because he’s never fought in a real battle. He doesn’t know that battles can go on for hours, sometimes days depending on the enemy.

They were foolish for allowing this fight to happen, and he’s certain Varys and Illyrio are beginning to realize that if it hasn’t occurred to them yet. 

“I’m going to let you in on something,” Jon says, knocking Aegon’s sword from his tired hands. Before the fool can reach down to get it, he drives his sword through him. “I’m that baby that was born in the Tower of Joy. I didn't die. I survived.” He whispers in Aegon’s ear, as blood pours out of his mouth. “I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.” He pulls his sword out, watching Aegon’s blood and entrails spill on the ground. “The Iron Throne is my birthright, not yours, Pretender.” 

Aegon dies shortly after. His eyes bulged and wet with tears. Jon barely has time to acknowledge his victory before someone from the opposing side orders the army to attack. They’re going to swamp him. He’s too far away to make it back to the front line, and he’s never been the one to run away. 

As an added insult, he cleans Longclaw-no, Dark Sister off on Aegon’s trousers. Then he faces the oncoming enemy. 

Behind him, he hears the sound of hooves. Daenerys, Viserys, and Davos are there. They came for him the moment Aegon fell. His Hand has his horse ready for him. Jon runs to it and jumps on. 

A terrible screech from high above serves as a prelude to a bloody battle.

-o0o-

  
The dragons eat their fill that night. 

Not a single enemy is spared except for those who fled during the chaos. But a rider has been sent looking for them. They will meet the fate of their comrades, it’s Viserys’s orders. During a search of the enemy’s camp, a man partially covered in stone was found in the main tent, clinging to life. 

“Jon Connington,” Viserys said. He was the only one brave enough to get so close to the greyscale. “I am certain you know what this means. Your king is dead and so is his army. How does it feel knowing that you’ve failed Rhaegar yet again?” 

Even Jon found that to be cruel, but then Viserys continued as he drew his sword. 

“Fear not, Rhaegar’s son shall prevail.” He nudged his head over at Jon. “Does he look familiar?” he asked. 

Half of Jon Connington’s face was taken by the scale, the other half was covered in puss and bruises. But his pale blue eye worked just fine. It widened at the sight of Jon, and before any realization could dawn on him, he was dead. 

Viserys made a quick kill, burned his sword in the fire to cleanse it of the disease. Then they went from tent to tent, killing stragglers and deserters. 

The servants, handmaidens, and farmhands were taken without harm. 

Jon almost considers it a perfect victory, but not quite. 

“Varys and Illyrio fled,” he says to Daenerys and Viserys. They’re standing on the highest point of the Dragontone. Over the balcony the only thing they can see are clouds. 

“But they didn’t get away,” Viserys says. 

As if on cue, Daemon Sand and a few other Dornishmen steps out of the castle with two hooded figures in their grasp. 

Jon smiles. “That’s why you were missing on the battlefield,” he says to Daemon. He never took the knight to be craven. 

“I still regret that I missed it.” He removes the hoods from Varys and Illyrio. “Hunting squirrels bores me.” 

The Spider and the perfumed man plead for their lives, they swear they only wanted what was best for House Targaryen, and the realm, they try to weasel their way into their ranks. Their cries fall on deaf ears. Viserys thanks Illyrio for sheltering them when they had nowhere else to go. Daenerys thanks Illyrio for the dragon eggs and all the pretty dresses. 

Varys is the first to go. Viserys sees to his death personally as he has the man to blame for his family’s immediate downfall. 

“How shall the Stranger greet you?” Viserys asks.” By dragon fire….” He glances over the balcony. “Or would you like to see if Spiders can fly?” 

Varys doesn’t say anything. But the silent treatment only means Viserys gets to choose. 

With a finger, Daemon is summoned, and an unspoken order is passed to him. He grabs Varys by the arm and drags him over to the ledge. The Spider claws at the knight’s armor, his nails grating against the steel. He tries to pull Daemon over the ledge with him but Daemon’s feet remain planted. 

Varys screams all the way down. 

Wrinkling his nose, Jon looks at Illyrio. “Did you shit yourself?” 

“Smells like it,” Daenerys says. “It’d be offensive to have our men even touch him and even Drogon wouldn’t devour him now.” She purses her lip. “I suppose beheading will have to do.” 

Jon steps forward without being asked. It’s a quick, clean cut. Illyrio’s head rolls then his body hits the ground. 

“One enemy down,” Daenerys says. “One more to go.” 

“Before that, we have a wedding to attend,” Viserys says. “We should leave by the end of the week.” 

He never wastes time, that’s for sure.

* * *

_**303 AC - Viserys, the Better Version** _

“Hardly feels like this is my second wedding,” Daenerys says as she stares into the full looking glass. She's wearing a sweeping gown, her hair is styled, and she actually looks like a bride, not a frightened child. “I suppose the first time doesn’t count.” 

The journey from Dragonstone to Winterfell was long. Viserys even joked that Cersei would die from natural causes before they even reached King’s Landing. Ser Barristan said that the fact they could be in Westeros freely further proves that Cersei and the Lannisters are already beat dogs. They were weakened greatly by Tywin’s and Kevan’s death, Myrcella is now a Martell, and Tommen's still a child. 

House Tyrell has already begun to send them ravens, pleading for mercy if they see to it that the gates of the Red Keep are opened from the inside to allow their armies entry. 

The war is already won. 

Viserys adds a ruby comb to Daenerys’s hair. It matches the bracelet Jon gave her. “No, your first wedding doesn’t count at all.” He walks over to retrieve the Targaryen cloak. “Are you nervous or excited?” 

“Both. I’m dying to fuck-” She closes her mouth, smiling shyly. “I must remember that I am not in the company of Princess Arianne. It’s difficult not having a woman I can confide in.” 

“There are a lot of northern girls your age.” He laughs at the thought. “Although I doubt they would want to sit around talking about how you’re bedding their king every night.” 

Jon has earned quite a few admirers, and those admirers are not happy that he’s going to be marrying Daenerys. But for the most part, the northerners haven’t been outwardly rude toward her or Viserys. 

They’re wary which is understandable, and Missandei receives a curious glance here and there though she doesn’t get nearly as many as Daemon and the other Dornishmen. Northers are naturally wary of outsiders, especially the Dornish who never travel north. 

Viserys also thinks that since Missandei is a harmless child, to their knowledge, that she isn’t so much as a threat but an abnormality. 

“I’m glad we won’t be staying here long,” Daenerys says. She turns to the side to examine the dress’s lacings. “Although I am interested in learning more about the northern culture, I don’t think the people will warm up to me anytime soon or ever.” 

“You must speak their language sister.” 

“Is there a Northern tongue I’m unaware of?” 

Viserys chuckles. “I mean you must find common ground with them. There will be a feast after the ceremony. You should drink and dance with them.” 

“Will you drink and dance with them?” 

“I will take the first opportunity to sneak off with Daemon.” 

Daenerys laughs. 

He’s happy that she’s laughing. Earlier she was pacing and her hands were trembling. She’s not even this nervous before a battle yet it’s her own wedding that has her in a tizzy. 

There’s a light knock at the door. Soon, Missandei peeks her head in and lets Daenerys know that they’re ready. Out in the hallway, Ser Barristan awaits them. At the sight of Daenerys in her wedding gown, the old man’s eyes crinkle and water, but he doesn’t shed a tear. 

“You look lovely, your grace,” he says. 

Missandei nods. “You’re very pretty, my queen!” 

“Thank you both.” Daenerys locks arms with Viserys as they walk down the corridor. Two servants are leading them out of the castle. The ceremony will be held in the Godswood. “Are you ready to give me away?” she asks. 

Actually, he isn’t. 

Damn, all this time he’s been waiting around for her and Jacaerys to get together. Now that it’s time to seal the deal, he’s getting cold feet. Is this how fathers feel about their daughter’s wedding day? This is his sister, he knows that, but for years he’s raised Daenerys like a daughter. He knows that Jacaerys is a good man. It doesn’t make sense for him to be this apprehensive. 

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I don’t really have a choice.” 

They’re walking through the woods now, lit lanterns guiding their path. 

Daenerys kisses him on the cheek before anyone else can see the show of affection. “It’ll be okay, brother. You’ve taught me quite enough. I’ll be able to handle myself.” 

“I’ve always known that.” Viserys refuses to cry. He will not cry. “I’m very proud of you, sister. We’ve come this far mostly because of your tenacity.” His eyes begin to water. He blinks rapidly. 

“Be quiet, Viserys,” she says, her voice cracking. “We mustn’t shed tears for them. We are the blood of the dragon,” she says, teasing. “A dragon’s tears are not meant to be seen by mortal men.” 

Viserys laughs. “Yes, I’ve taught you well.” 

Bride and groom look quite the pair. 

Among those in attendance is the massive direwolf that serves as Jon’s shadow. The wolf displayed more intelligence than most humans when they were introduced to him upon their arrival. He sits near the altar, watching the ceremony with those all-seeing red eyes. 

The truth of Jon’s parentage remains a secret because they all decided that it made no sense to reveal it just yet.

In the past, their family was torn apart because of succession drama. If Daenerys’s claim to the throne is absolute there will be no whispering or conspiring about placing Jon on the throne. His nephew has made it clear that he wants the power the title grants him rather than the actual title. 

So, once their vows have been exchanged and the candles lit, Daenerys places the Targaryen cloak on Jon since she will be taking him into her family. The irony is that he’s already in the family. 

When it’s time for the kiss, Viserys raises an eyebrow before looking away with a chuckle. They kiss like they’ve been spending a lot of time kissing. He’s sure a lot of the onlookers are convinced they’ve already acquainted themselves in other ways as well. 

Viserys catches Daemon’s eye in the crowd and they share a smile between them. 

The northerners actually cheer for Jacaerys and Daenerys as they enter the great hall later that night, both changed into lighter clothes. His sister is wearing a Myrish lace gown that was dyed in indigo. It’s long-sleeved but her back is exposed. Her long hair covers most of it. She looks stunning. A radiant beauty that makes everyone else look like manure. 

Viserys knows that he looks good as well, but he has to give credit where it's due. His sister is truly a beautiful bride, and he isn’t the only one to take note. Several of the men have been gawking at her. Jacaerys shoots them with a possessive glare whenever Daenerys isn’t looking. 

It’s hilarious. 

A celebratory goblet of strong mead is given to the couple to start the feast off. He’s already sampled the mead. It’s strong like horse piss. 

“She’ll never be able to keep it down,” someone in the crowd whispers. 

Another person adds, “Southerners don’t have the belly for it.” 

Viserys smiles to himself. Daenerys can drink them all under the table. As if to prove that, she takes the goblet from Jacaerys and knocks it back without taking a breath. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“May I have another round?” she asks in her sweetest voice. 

Men climb over one another to fulfill her request. And with that, his sister makes the first step to winning over the Northmen. Like Alysanne, she will become a beloved queen in their eyes. 

The feast kicks off after that. 

Viserys eats his full and partakes in the strong mead. Three cups have him feeling good, giddy, and horny. Several lords ask to dance with Daenerys. In exchange, Jacaerys dances with their wives if they have them, their daughters if they don’t. Several noblewomen ask Viserys for a dance and Viserys accepts as many as he can stomach. 

“Your Grace, I imagine you will be wed next,” a buxom woman with hair like wheat asks him as they dance. She’s not hideous nor is she pretty. She’s the daughter of some lord he can’t remember. 

“I suppose that’s true.” Viserys spins her around then pulls her back to him delicately. 

She stares up at him as though he placed the moon in the sky. “My lord father has already arranged for me to be wed but…” She places her hand on his chest. “I remain an available woman until then…” 

“Forgive me, my lady. I dare not take your maidenhead.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind at all.” 

“Surely-” 

“Your grace.” Daemon comes to the rescue. “There is an issue at camp. Your presence is needed immediately.” 

“Oh dear, I must end our dance here, my lady.” Viserys can barely keep his relief hidden. “Duty calls.” He kisses the back of her hand. “I thank you for your time.” 

Before he leaves the hall, he spares another look at Daenerys and Jacaerys. They’re at the long table laughing and they look so happy. Missandei is sitting with Ser Barristan. He knows soon the old man will take her to her chambers before the night gets too wild. 

“They will be fine without you,” Daemon says. “You worry like an old woman.” 

Viserys laughs.

They step out into the dim corridor, making their way to his chamber. Everyone is too drunk or too busy watching the young couple to care about the two of them. So, privacy is guaranteed. 

“Thankfully there won’t be a bedding ceremony,” he says. They step into his chamber. A fire is lit and the furs on his bed look inviting. “But I’m sure a servant will check the bedding the next day for consummation proof…” He lays down on his bed, using his elbows to prop himself up. “Never mind all that…” This is what he’s been waiting for. “Undress for me.” 

“Do you want me to dance as well?” Daemon asks, heavy on the sarcasm. But he’s already removing his breastplate. 

“Depends? Can you dance?” 

“Not at all.” 

“I figured as much.” 

Daemon is completely nude when he joins Viserys on the bed, his toned body making Viserys excited for what’s to come. There’s nothing like dominating a man like Daemon. A man of sheer power with a solid frame. 

As ridiculous as the whole ordeal was, topping Khal Drogo is still pretty high on his list of great hookups. 

He admires the muscles in Daemon’s shoulders and arms as Daemon helps him out of his clothes. Daemon’s hands are gentle and patient despite the callouses and number of lives they’ve taken. Viserys remains passive while Daemon relieves him of his clothing and sprinkles in a kiss here and a lingering touch there because it feels nice to not be in control and to be cared for. 

This is actually a somber moment because taking King’s Landing will take less time than it took to defeat Aegon and his forces. The Tyrells are simply waiting for the signal. Then after that-

Daemon licks Viserys’s nipple, sucking it into his hot mouth. “You think too much,” he says, his hands sliding down Viserys’s chest and abdomen. “Yet you’re always telling me to loosen up.” 

This time is different, he wants to say. His journey in this world is coming to an end. He actually thinks he might cry as pitiful as that is. He knew what he was getting himself into. He knew that this was all temporary. 

“What if I can’t keep my word?” Viserys asks. “What if this has to end sooner than we expected.” 

“Then make sure you fuck me thoroughly tonight.” 

“Daemon-” 

“I am a knight of Dorne. I never believed I could be your lifetime lover. Only children believe in such tales.” 

Daemon is right. There’s no other way around it. He has to just continue to make his time here count. 

He has to start by fucking Daemon into a coma just as he’s promised. 

The kiss they share is fervent, bordering orgasmic. Kissing has always been good fun but when there are emotions there it becomes something that can contend with the actual act of lovemaking. He doesn’t even know how to do that. Make love. He’s always been a fickle and frivolous lover, more concerned with getting off than actually building a connection with anyone. 

Being here having to look after someone other than himself has changed him a lot, he supposes. Without having Rhaegar to lean on, he had to branch out and become his own person. 

“There’s oil under the pillow,” Viserys, kissing Daemon’s inner thigh, his lips still tingling from their kiss. 

Daemon retrieves the small vial of oil. He hands it to Viserys. “Usually I do that myself…” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, taking the vial. 

Oberyn Martell allowed his bottoms to prep themselves? What a terrible top he was. The realm’s greatest lover, his ass. 

This is actually Viserys’s specialty. Before he knew how to wield a sword or even cast a spell, he knew how to unravel a man with only his fingers. But this time, he uses his mouth too. He licks Daemon’s cock from base to tip then takes it in full, bopping his head slightly. His index finger is already oiled and ready. 

He gets Daemon comfortable, aroused before pressing his finger in. He’s using his mouth so well that the second finger is barely registered. Daemon’s moaning and writhing like a Lyseni whore, a sight he doubts Oberyn got to see since he’s a shitty lover. 

Why does he keep thinking about dead Oberyn? Could he be jealous that someone else got to have Daemon in this way? Are all Targaryens this possessive?

Possibly. 

“Your grace…” Daemon groans. 

“Use my name,” Viserys says, taking Daemon back into his mouth. He knows Daemon is ready for his cock but Daemon’s tight ass isn’t near ready, and that’s made clear when he tries to add a third finger. 

Daemon tenses. 

Viserys takes him in deeper until his nose is brushing against a nest of sandy brown hair. Daemon relaxes, too lost in the pleasure of his cock hitting the back of Viserys’s throat to care too much about the sting the third finger brings. Viserys finds a pace and sticks with it, sucking and fingering Daemon in tandem until the man is spilling his seed down his throat. 

Viserys swallows, of course. Because why the hell not? 

Daemon is blissed out and still floating on a cloud of post-release. Viserys seizes the opportunity. He sits up and oils himself, idly stroking as he looks down on the beautiful knight. If he were a novice he would’ve ended before he started but he’s wanted Daemon for too long to blow his load prematurely because the sight alone is gratifying. 

Lifting Daemon’s left leg, he places it on his shoulder and thrusts in before the moment passes. He muffles Daemon’s choked groan with a kiss. He’s so damn tight that it’s a little unsettling at first. He has to roll his hips and think of mathematical equations to fight back his release and distract himself long enough. It also helps to get Daemon adjusted to his size.

Once Daemon starts biting Viserys’s earlobe and grabbing onto his ass to make him fuck him properly, Viserys knows that it’s time. Ever the gentlemen, he obliges Daemon. Fucks him good and proper. He goes from having one of Daemon’s legs on his shoulder to both of them to moving Daemon to his side and fucking him as such. 

Their sweat slickened skin makes a lewd sound every time their bodies meet and he swears he can feel Daemon tightening around him every single time he moans.

If a servant is eavesdropping there’s no way they’d believe they were in here playing Cyvasse. 

Viserys can feel the end nearing. He wants it to never end. He grips his cock at the base to postpone his release, but the orgasm denial is just as arousing and maddening. He chooses the lesser evil. 

Half of Daemon’s face is pressed into the pillow. 

Viserys fists his hand in Daemon’s hair, lifting his head. “I want to see those pretty blue eyes when I cum inside of you.” 

Daemon’s eyes are true blue without any specks of green or dashes of gold. Pure blue eyes as clear as skies on a fair day. They’re glazed over and dazed now but they’re still the prettiest eyes Viserys has ever stared into while he’s buried deep. Once he’s filled Daemon to bursting, he collapses beside the man, panting heavily.

All he wants to do now is sleep next Daemon, and maybe he’ll wake Daemon up later for round two. They have the rest of the night together, after all.

* * *

_**303 AC - Daenerys, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons** _

The northerners sure know how to throw a feast. 

Hours have passed since she and Jon shared their vows in the Godswood and the feast is nowhere near an end. Truth be told, she’s enjoying herself more than she thought possible here in this unfamiliar place. She’s danced so much that her feet are sore and she’s danced with so many people that she can hardly remember any of their faces. It doesn’t help that she’s on her fifth cup of mead. 

“I hear you ride the biggest dragon of the three,” a tall, redheaded man by the name of Tormund Giantsbane says to her. Well, he shouts it at her. 

Daenerys is sitting on Jon’s lap. Her husband has had his share of mead as well and with each cup, his hands and mouth became looser. She overheard from a group of gossiping women that the king hadn't smiled and laughed like this as long as they’ve known him. 

Does she truly make him this happy? 

“That’s true,” Daenerys says. “His name is Drogon.” 

Tormund nods. Then he puts his arm on the table, extending his hand to her. “That means you’re a tough one. Let’s see how tough!” 

“Seven hells, Tormund,” Jon says, tightening his arm around Daenerys instinctively. “Leave my wife be. She has no time to arm wrestle with you.” 

Jon’s accent becomes less comprehensible with every cup of mead as well. It’s oddly enduring. 

“I don’t mind.” She doubts she can beat Tormund at the game but it doesn’t hurt to test one’s strength. 

Arm wrestling probably isn’t a proper wedding activity, but then again she’s been at feasts where full orgies were underway, she’s even had a Dothraki wedding and no one can top the Dothraki when it comes to outrageousness. She feels at home here. 

She takes hold of Tormund’s hand. 

A small crowd gathers around the long table. Someone even bets a gold dragon on “the small dragon queen” and that makes her smile. The difference in power is made apparent immediately, but she doesn't back down. She keeps a firm hold on Tormund’s hand and uses all the strength she can muster whilst inebriated. It turns out to be quite a bit. 

Tormund’s eyes widen when she manages to push his hand down, dangerously close to the tabletop, and the people around them gasp loudly. Tormund turns the tides on the match quickly, however. He overpowers her at the last second, slamming her hand on the table. He apologizes to her and Jon for the force. 

“Didn’t hurt at all,” she says, showing him her hand. If it does hurt she can’t feel it. “I almost had you there.” She smiles. 

“That she did, Tormund,” a man from the crowd says. “The little queen almost made a fool of you!” 

“She did make a fool of him,” someone else says. “How’d you let a small thing like that almost get the better of you?” 

Tormund jumps up from his seat, rushing over to the men. They scramble away laughing whilst Tormund follows them. The others who were watching the wrestling match trickle off to see how things will play out for the men who dared taunt Giantsbane.

Jon kisses her cheek. “They like you,” his whispers. 

“It’s a relief.” Daenerys tenses. Her husband’s hands are once again inching closer to her breasts. Earlier she had to pry his hands from under her dress. He’s awfully frisky when drunk. “Jon…” 

“I think it's pastime we retired for the night.” 

“I think the same but will they let us leave without causing a ruckus.” 

Jon signals for Ser Davos. The old Hand has been enjoying the feast as much as them but not so much that he’s incapable of being on call. He comes to Jon quickly, smelling heavily of mead. 

“My wife and I will retire for the night,” Jon says. “I’m leaving everything in your care until morning.” 

That handles that. 

While they sneak off, Ser Davos tells a joke about his time as a smuggler. 

By the time their absence is noticed they’re in the corridor that leads directly to Jon’s chambers. Daenerys was told that normally Ghost would sleep in Jon’s chamber but the wolf wandered off into the Godswood following their ceremony and has yet to return. According to Jon, Ghost just tends to do that a lot. 

He can’t seem to wait to get her alone because he has her pinned against the wall well before they reach the door. His beard tickles when he kisses her neck and cleavage. She laughs like a giddy fool. 

The mead and the heat from her husband’s kisses make her feel like a million fire ants are dancing beneath her flesh. 

“What if someone sees us?” she asks once he starts lifting her skirts. Honestly, she’s too concerned with what he intends to do with his hands to actually care about anyone seeing them. 

Jon flashes a wicked smile, full of delight and mischievousness. “No one will come down here. They know better…” He’s nearly a different man. 

Still a man she wants very much. More than words or actions can express. Jon’s calloused hands brush over her thighs briefly, causing her to shudder and gasp. He kisses her just to do it as he fumbles with her small clothes. 

“Do you intend to take me right here in the corridor?” she asks teasingly. “There’s a bed no further than a few steps away. Surely you can’t be this eager to have me-” Her words die on her tongue. 

Jon presses his thumb over her pearl, a finger is pushed into her wetness. As sudden and as new as the intrusion is, she doesn’t resist it. She presses her back to the stone wall but angles her hips in such a way that grants her more of that delicious friction. She’s so wet. Jon comments on it, too, his voice full of desperate longing. 

She secures her arms around his neck, his beard tickling her face as he sucks on her ear lobe and licks her ear. She melts in his arms, completely surrendering to him. The haze in her mind grows thicker, the stone walls and lit candles on the walls fade from her sight. 

All she can see is him, all she can feel, smell, and taste are him. He thumbs her clit and works his finger inside of her the way a minstrel works a harp. She wonders when he became so skilled. 

Who was she? She wants to ask him but she wouldn’t dare come off like a jealous woman when it’s evident that he’s hers. Still, she’s curious. Did he have many lovers? Were they all women or is he like Viserys? Not that she cares about that sort of thing. 

Daenerys just wants to know if she can make him forget about all of them. 

Something inside of her breaks like a dam. A sharp cry escapes her, her body shuddering as white-hot pleasure enraptures her. She sags against him, her head resting on his shoulder. When he pulls his finger out, she whimpers. 

The loss is immediately noted. She lifts her head in time to catch Jon putting his wet fingers into his mouth, sampling the taste of her. That makes her wetter, and she somehow gets even wetter when he kisses her soon after. 

Jon’s chamber is toasty and smells of cedar and ash.

The bed is large, covered in furs and brown bedding. Her mind isn’t as clouded as it was in the hall. Uncertainty tries to rear its ugly head, but she’s pressed against the door and kissed before it can find a home in her heart. It’s as if Jon knows. It’s as if he senses her changes in mood regardless of how slight they may be. She swears they’re connected the way the gossiping women say Jon and Ghost are connected. 

Perhaps she’s just swept up in the current that is Jon Snow. 

Daenerys undresses while he watches her with hunger in his eyes. Her hands tremble but from eagerness, not nervous. The gown pools around her ankles, leaving only her thin, lacey undergarments. Stepping out of the gown, she starts to remove the rest of her clothes. That’s when Jon works on removing his jerkin. 

The tension is palpable and so thick and visceral that she could slice through it with her sword. 

“I’ve yet to give you your wedding gift,” Daenerys says. 

“Is it better than this?” he asks, working on his tunic. 

Daenerys chuckles. 

She slips out of her undergarments, and she’s thankful that her long hair covers her breast though the rest of her is laid bare. “Depends on how you feel about Valyrian armor. We retrieved it from Eu…” She notices the way Jon has stopped undressing just to stare at her. 

“Gods,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful, Daenerys.” 

She’s heard that more times than she can count and yet hearing it now makes her heart flutter and blood rise to the surface of her skin. That’s where she gets the courage to step up to him. She picks up where he left off. 

“It’s not a pretty sight,” he says chuckling humorlessly. He brushes her hair over her shoulders so that he can see her breasts. 

Daenerys presses her thighs together to quell herself. She lifts his tunic over his head. The scars are hard to miss. They cover a majority of his chest. Each one is a different size and each one tells a different story. She imagines she could determine the amount of hatred each offender had when they stabbed him. 

This is how his men repaid him for doing what he thought was right. 

Her eyes water, tears falling before she can stop them. 

“It’s alright,” Jon says, cupping her face and kissing her softly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore…” He kisses her tear-stained cheek, drying her tears. “They don’t look it but these scars have healed long ago” 

“On the surface,” she says, touching his chest. “I can’t imagine what that felt like...having men you trusted…” She shakes her head slowly. “They’re nothing.” 

“That’s right.” Jon puts his arms around her and kisses the top of her breasts. “They’re nothing,” he says, breathing the words into her skin. 

Daenerys curls her fingers in his hair as he sucks on her nipple, thinking about how full and healthy it is, not balding and greying. He’s everything she used to wish for when she was younger, everything and more. 

They get on the bed, still kissing and roaming their hands over the other’s body. 

For Daenerys, this is more about exploration rather than pleasure. She touches every dip and curve she can get her hands on, fascinated by how hard his body is. Jon takes her right hand and guides it down to his stiff cock. 

Gasping, she blindly caresses him. It feels big, bigger than she thinks she can handle just yet. Jon places his hand over hers and shows her how to stroke him while he thumbs her clit and kisses her sweetly. He’s being very patient with her considering how badly he obviously wants her. It’s all for her, she realizes. 

All of his waiting, restraint, and carefulness are to ensure this comfortable and enjoyable for her. She knows that most husbands are not as thoughtful and considers herself fortunate to have him. 

She can feel herself edging toward that release she felt earlier when Jon lays her down on the bed and kisses down her body. She sits up, curious to see what he’s up to. He licks around her navel, places a kiss atop the silver hairs on her cunt, and then he spreads her thighs apart and lowers his head between them. Her head drops to the pillow at the first touch of his wicked tongue. 

This is what they refer to as the Lord’s Kiss, then. 

The name is fitting. It’s truly a divine experience. Jon excels at this as well. His tongue makes a mess of her as two of his fingers curve and prod inside of her. She moans his name, no she screams it. So loudly that she’s certain her screams can be heard in White Harbor. 

It’s to the point where she begs him to take him. She can’t take it anymore. 

Jon is smug when he settles between her thighs, his lips wet. She might’ve wiped the expression off his face under different circumstances. 

Besides, the smugness doesn’t last. He kisses her, briefly, before dropping his forehead to hers. 

There’s no warning, and in retrospect she believes that’s for the best. Had he warned her she would’ve tensed up, making the breach far more painful. But he enters her in one thrust and the pain she’d expected is there yet not nearly as prominent as she assumed. 

The pleasure makes itself known soon. She wraps her legs around his waist and drags her nails down his back as he makes love to her with a fiery passion. The muscles in his shoulders and arms spasm with each thrust, and she finds herself mesmerized by him, by this beautiful man who shares her blood and now her life. 

Full circle, she thinks. It all has come full circle. 

Daenerys drags her nails down his back and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Jon groans her name and curses in her ear, the vibrations from his deep voice travel from her head to her toes making them curl. 

Once she starts to move with him, the atmosphere shifts. His thrusts become faster, ferocious, his groans changing to low growls. She urges him on, urges him to take his fill, to claim her, fill her with his seed, and rule with her. And he obliges. 

Jon holds her close to him through his release. There isn’t a drop spilled. 

Daenerys barely gives him enough time to gather himself before she’s rolling them over until he’s on his back and she’s straddling him. She rubs her wetness against his half-hard cock that’s gradually coming alive again. 

“My wife is full of energy,” Jon says, not sounding tired at all either. “I have my work cut out for me it would seem.” He puts his hands on her hips but lets her move on her own. 

“You’ve awoken something in me and it has no intention of going to sleep anytime soon.” Daenerys touches her breasts and teases her nipples, drinking in the way he stares up at her as though she were a goddess. “Can you keep up?” 

Jon’s smirk is telling, reminding her of the time he battled the pretender and prevailed. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Jon, Lord Snow, King in the North, Bastard of Winterfell** _

A week leading up to their departure, Jon has picked up the habit of traveling down into the crypts to visit with his uncle and mother every morning. 

In the past, it never felt right being among the kings, lords, and ladies because since he was a boy he was convinced he wasn’t truly a Stark. But Stark blood runs in his veins the same as Targaryen blood. 

His mother, Lyanna, was the daughter of Rickard Stark. Even when he thought his father was Ned he had more right to be within Winterfell’s walls than the Tully woman who made his years here miserable. She made him think that he didn’t belong here, but that was never true. 

Ghost sits on his haunches and watches him place a single rose at the base of his mother’s statue. His uncle used to bring her flowers so he assumes she liked them when she was alive. He doesn’t know much about the woman aside from Arya favoring her in more than just looks. He also knows that Rhaegar gave her a tourney favor. 

Jon imagines she was beautiful and wild but with a hidden kindness. 

Thinking about her makes him incredibly sad though he isn’t sure why exactly. Perhaps it’s because her true story will never be told. All of the stories are about Rhaegar and Robert, how an already fragile kingdom crumbled because of their rivalry. They only talk about how his mother died in that tower and nothing more. 

He and Daenerys have that in common. Both of them know so little about the women who died to bring them into the world. They stay up for hours talking about their journey to where they are now and the similarities make him wonder if he were meant to be with her before he was even conceived. She’s a strong person, his wife.

An energetic one, too. 

She’s insatiable. They’ve probably fucked a thousand times already. He never grows tired of it either. Sometimes they take flight together and he shows her the beauty of the north that most people overlook. The dragons aren’t too fond of the snow but that’s to be expected he supposes. 

They’ll be leaving today, anyway. Everything is in place. Their secret allies in King’s Landing are simply waiting for them to arrive.

“Ready for another battle?” 

Jon doesn’t look away from the statue of his uncle Ned. He had a feeling that Viserys would approach him sooner or later. “Ready for it to be over with,” he replies. 

Viserys stops at Lyanna’s statue. The action surprises Jon. He didn’t expect the man to pay her any mind. 

“Curious to see what your brother saw in her?” Jon asks. 

“I already know what he saw in her. You’re the one who’s curious, am I right?” 

There he goes again with the mind-reading. He’s convinced at this point that Viserys is some kind of sorcerer. The man knows too much. 

“You mean to tell me you knew my mother?” He chuckles. 

“Not this version of her.” Viserys steps away from her statue. He changes the subject before Jon can inquire about what he means. “I was hoping that I could speak with you alone. The journey to King’s Landing will be long and we won’t be able to talk while on our dragons.” 

“And I take it this is something you don’t want Daenerys to be in on.” Last he checked his wife was visiting with the men in the camp to see how they were faring. “Do you often keep secrets from your sister?” 

“Do you often keep secrets from your wife? I take it she still doesn’t know about the threat beyond the wall.” 

Jon has had it with this. “How do you know these things?” He thought he could live without knowing but the all-knowing horseshit is starting to irritate him; mostly because he wonders if Viserys knows all of his secrets. 

“You’ve been planning to lead an army beyond the wall,” Viserys says without acknowledging the question. He’s an evasive fucker. “A fool’s errand, I assure you.” 

“Then I suppose I just let them come over the wall and-” 

“Why do you think the wall was built?” Viserys steps closer, and in the dim candlelight, his eyes seem to glimmer. “That very magic that’s protected the realm until now still holds, but it's weakened.” 

Years ago, the very mention of magic would’ve made Jon laugh. But he’s seen enough to accept that explanation. Still, there is so much he needs to know. 

“How do we strengthen it?” If there’s truly a chance to avoid meeting the Others in battle, he’d be a fool not to take it. Protecting the realm is the goal, not fighting and dying in a glorious battle. 

“They fear our magic. They fear the dragons. As long as Targaryens are in power, the realm will be safe. With time, the Others will cease to exist.” 

Jon staggers back in disbelief. “You mean the key to defeating the Others-” 

“Is to put the realm back in order. Seems ridiculous doesn’t it?” 

“More like unbelievable. I’ve never heard about a problem getting better just from ignoring it.” All of his plotting and scheming, all of his coming to terms with not having a family and a long life seem silly now with this knowledge. “So, once King’s Landing is taken...we just live…” 

Viserys chuckles. “I know for someone who has been fighting all of his life that seems bizarre. But yes, nephew, you and Dany just live.” 

Jon is so used to being let down that he’s afraid to feel relief. But he does feel it. “Is it wise to assume you know where my siblings are?” 

All he has is Rickon, and the boy prefers to sleep in the kennel with Shaggydog. He takes his supper with the dogs as well no matter how much Jon tries to make him sit at a table and eat like a person. Jon has decided to take Rickon with him to King’s Landing. Wild or not, that’s his brother, and he won't abandon him to be cared for by people who are essentially strangers to him. 

Theon will be ransomed off to his sister once the city has been taken. Jon doesn’t have anyone else besides them. 

“Sansa is in the Vale,” Viserys says. “With an untrustworthy man. I must admit I do not know where Arya is. She’s with people who know how to hide themselves from even me but she will return home someday. I’m sorry but Bran is dead.” 

Jon closes his eyes. He expected worse. Far worse. He expected them all to be dead but he still has his sisters. Even if he doesn’t know where Arya is knowing that she’s alive out there brings him some comfort. And there's the hope that she'll return home some days. Gods, he misses her. 

“Littlefinger holds the Vale,” Jon says, anger filling him. “Is he holding Sansa prisoner there?” She never cared for him. They barely talked to one another but she’s the daughter of the man who took him in. She’s the sister of one of his closest friends. He has to save her. 

“You could say that. But don’t worry. Littlefinger will try to get on our good side once it’s realized that the throne is ours. She will come to you. The rest will be in your hands.” 

“Are you a Red Priest?” 

Viserys laughs. “I’m far better. I actually know what the hell I’m talking about.” He turns to leave. “Well, that’s all I have for you.” 

Jon watches him leave, feeling newfound respect and appreciation for the man.

Before Viserys disappears out of sight, Jon finds his voice. “Thank you, Uncle Viserys.”

* * *

_**303 AC - Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons** _

There isn’t a final battle for the throne. 

In fact, the whole affair is anticlimactic. The gates are opened from within, their armies lay waste to those who refuse to surrender, and the false Queen Regent and her bastard son are brought to them.

Daenerys used to think Illyrio was full of it when he said that the common folk in King’s Landing drink secret toasts to their health. But the people treat them like saviors when they fly over the city. Not that she can blame them. In her paranoia, Cersei closed off the city completely, preventing merchants, meaning no food or supplies.

The Tyrells played their part, however. 

Food was snuck into the city using the tunnels and hidden passageways. The people were told that the food came from the true king and queen, earning them favor with the people. In exchange, Margaery will not be punished alongside her husband though Tommen’s punishment, if it can be called that, is the lightest of the three. 

Cersei’s execution takes place the same day with the entirety of the city watching. Tyrion is punished for his crime of kinslaying and is executed in a similar fashion. She thought Jaime Lannister would return to the city once he heard of their approach but no one has seen him in months. She assumes he’s already dead but she can't be sure.

A ransom for his head will be issued. He must pay for his crimes as well. 

The day has been an exceptionally long one despite how smoothly everything unfolded. Arianne and Quentyn, and the Dornish army met them at the gates of the city to show the realm where Dorne stands. Margaery Tyrell gave a lovely performance when Tommen was taken away but has otherwise not shed a tear for his imprisonment. 

It’s not actually imprisonment. Daenerys took the boy to where his sister, Myrcella, is on her own. He’s naturally shaken up and wary of them but fine otherwise. 

Once the formalities are over, the ransoms issued, and other minor business is handled for the day, Daenerys retires to the chamber that once belonged to her mother. Of course, she knows that many people have slept in the chamber since her mother but her mother’s presence is still felt when she’s here. 

Feeling faint, she sits by the open window. The night breeze feels good on her clammy skin. Jon and Viserys will probably be up all night making sure everything is squared away. 

They have promises to fulfill to their allies and new laws to create. The common folk is a peculiar bunch. They want to be liberated and ruled again in the same breath. So, there will be no reprieve for them. The real work has already begun. 

Daenerys closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She’s felt ill since the day before yesterday and her moon’s blood didn’t come as she expected. Her eyes fly open. Touching her stomach, she smiles to herself. Could it be? 

Her life is turning out to be like the tales she used to read with pretty people and prettier endings. She has everything she’s ever wanted and now it appears she’s going to have everything she’s ever wanted and more. 

Would it be too soon to tell Jon? She should wait until she’s sure. They’ve never talked about children. Does he even want them? 

A single knock at the door pulls her from her worrying. She beckons the person to enter and isn’t surprised to see Viserys. They had a small moment standing in the throne room together earlier today. A moment that no one else quite understood, not even Jon. No words were passed between them but the emotions were there. They finally did it. 

“Are you two done building a new world?” she asks, smiling. “Sorry I had to leave. I...I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.” 

“No worries. Jon can hold down the fort.” 

Daenerys’s smile falters. That look in his eyes, it can’t be good. She gets up quickly. Too quickly. Her legs buckle faintly. She’s been up for two days, has barely eaten, and may very well be with child. It’s expected.

Viserys helps her sit back down and joins her on the chaise chair. 

“Have you eaten?” Viserys asks. “Of course not. I’ve already stopped by the kitchens. Someone will be bringing you something shortly.” 

“What about you? You’re about as bad as me when it comes to that.” 

“I’m fine, Dany.” The way he’s staring at her makes her feel uneasy. This isn’t like when they were in the throne room nor is this like the moment they took Meereen or defeated Euron. No, this look in her brother’s eyes is-

Daenerys’s eyes water. “You’re leaving,” she says knowingly. Perhaps she’s always known that this day would come. Still, she holds onto hope. “Has Daemon convinced you to marry Arianne to keep you close?” She laughs; it’s empty. 

“If only…” 

Feeling desperate, she takes him by the hand. “I never cared that you weren’t truly my brother,” she eyes, tears falling. “I never cared. You were there for me when no one else was. I want you to be here for me still.” Gods she knows she sounds selfish but she doesn’t care. “We won. The last of our family are here together in the place our ancestors built. I...there’s still so much more to do and-” 

“Dany, I was never meant to stay here forever,” he says, his own eyes brimming with tears. She can’t recall ever seeing him cry. He’s always hidden his emotions from her and was always strong for them both during harsh times. To see him this way now lets her know that this is it. This is really it. “And despite how strange it may sound, I am your brother. Just not the one you used to know.” 

Daenerys wants to beg and cry like a child. But she isn’t a child. She’s a queen, and she has to accept that some things can’t go her way. No matter how badly she wants them to. 

“Will I ever see you again?” she asks. 

Viserys blinks hard. “You...none of you will remember me once I am gone.” 

“Nonsense. I will remember you. I will make sure everyone does-” 

“Dany-” 

“I will never forget you,” she says with conviction. 

Viserys knows better than to argue with her when she gets this way. She doesn’t care if it’s magic or the will of the gods. She will never forget her brother. 

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he says. “But I...I don’t know why I never told you, honestly.” 

“I would’ve tried to find a way to make you stay.” Is it too late to try? “How long?” 

“Before sunrise.” 

“That means we have time. We can-” 

Viserys hugs her. 

He holds the back of her head and holds her close to him like he used to do when she was much smaller. She can feel his body trembling slightly, and that breaks her. She fists her hands in his tunic as if to keep him from slipping away and she sobs and sobs. It hurts so much. What will she do without him? How will she continue without him? The three of them were supposed to rule together. 

“You and Jon will do fine without me,” Viserys assures her as he strokes her hair. “I love you, Dany. Goodbye.” 

“No!” 

  
A sudden sense of calmness washes over her, enveloping her in a warm embrace. It feels as though she were flying on Drogon during a sunny day in Meereen. The imagery brings a smile to her face. She opens her eyes again and finds herself in bed. She must’ve dozed off without realizing it. 

Looking around the room, she tries to recall a memory that she can't quite grasp. Was someone in here with her before she fell asleep? Perhaps it was Jon. She lays back down. 

* * *

_**303 AC - Viserys, the Better Version, King for Fifteen Hours and Three Minutes** _

The last person on Viserys’s farewell tour isn’t a person at all but his mount, Viserion. Daemon was meant to be the last person he saw, but after visiting with Dany he doesn’t think he has it in him. 

He rides out to the ruins of the dragon pit where Viserion has decided to rest for the night. It’s strange how the creatures are drawn to places like this, he thinks. Only Viserion is here, the other two are probably off for a late-night meal; they’re gluttonous in comparison. 

At the sight of him, Viserion lifts his head and stares at him as if he can read his mind. It’s as if he knows this will be their last time together. If he could take a dragon with him back to the twenty-first century that would be fucking awesome. 

“You are a creature of habit.”

Viserys might be all-knowing but he sure as shit didn’t see that coming. He turns around and sees Daemon step out of the shadows. He didn’t think anyone would dare come out here yet here Daemon is. 

“How so?” Viserys asks, masking the sadness in his voice. Will he ever meet anyone like Daemon again? Someone who can tolerate him outside of family. Probably not. 

“When we were in Dorne you used to spend hours in the mountains with your dragon.” Daemon walks closer but keeps his distance, ever mindful of the big ass dragon nearby. “I knew if I found him I would find you.” 

“You act as if I’m a hard man to find.” 

“You have been today.” 

That’s true. 

He honestly didn’t think Daemon would notice. The plan had been to just leave once the city was taken but he just had to stick around, be around his nephew and sister more. Even now he’s in this predicament with Daemon because he just had to say goodbye to a dragon who won’t even remember him. This is all for himself, honestly. Because unlike everyone else, he won’t forget his time here. 

“I’m sorry,” Viserys says. “I was avoiding you but only because I’m not good with goodbyes.” 

“You act as if Sunspear is in Sothoryos. Am I a fool for having fantasized about you flying your dragon to Sunspear to visit me.” He laughs. 

Viserys smiles. “No, you're not.” If he could stay that’s what he’d do every chance he got. He’d take a page from the Rogue Prince’s book and never be tied down to one place. “Would if I could.” 

Daemon nods, filling in the blanks on his own. “Well, it was enjoyable while it lasted, your grace.” He looks like a knight resigned to his fate but his eyes tell a different story. “I wish you good fortune.” 

“Don’t give me the usual line. We are alone. Speak freely.” Please. He needs to know that he isn’t the only one feeling this way. 

“Speak freely, huh?” Daemon nods. “I wish I could stay here and be one of your Seven. I’m ashamed to admit that if you were to take a wife I would wish for you to still come to me. I wish-” He looks away. “What does it matter what I wish for? A knight mustn’t want for any more than what their liege gives them.” 

Somewhere in the distance, Viserys can feel the earth shift. 

In the other world, Rhaegar and Daenerys are beginning the spell to bring him back home.

His time here is at an end. 

Cursing, he approaches Daemon quickly, catching the man by surprise. He kisses him, pouring everything he’s too afraid to say into the action. Daemon is stiff at first, still in shock by Viserys’s suddenness but he relaxes into the kiss and returns it with the same fervency. 

No, Viserys isn’t the only one to feel this way. 

They break apart, both of their eyes glistening with tears, and Viserys smiles.

When his body starts to feel light and weightless he presses his forehead to Daemon's. He can feel his body and soul being pulled away from Daemon, from this time, as his siblings call him home. Before he’s taken away for good, he finds the courage to tell Daemon something he’s never told anyone outside of family.

Only after the fact does he remember that it’s pointless.

No one will remember him. 

* * *

_**2020- Viserys Targaryen, Successful Time Traveler, Co-CEO of Valyrian Industries, The Media’s Favorite, and King Landing’s Most Eligible Bachelor; ever since Rhaegar settled down**_

Eighteen years ago, Viserys woke up in the body of his six-year-old self. 

The spell didn’t send him back to his exact time, but to an alternate reality, one that has been shaped by his interference in the past. That was always meant to happen so overall it was a successful journey. 

After his mother and father came to check on him - because he was sobbing uncontrollably from the lingering emotions and the initial confusion - Rhaegar came to congratulate him on his safe return and to thank him for saving their family. 

Apparently everyone involved in the spell retained their memories. 

He was relieved to see that his parents were alive. In the original timeline, his mother shot his father and killed him then turned the gun on herself; Targaryen curse at its finest. But in this life, his father wasn’t abusive and his mother far from depressed. They were never madly in love but made the best of their marriage. 

A year after his return, Daenerys and Jacaerys were born. 

It took them years to regain their memories of the spell but it came back to them eventually. They grew up together since Rhaegar and Lyanna took over the estate after his parents retired and moved out of the city. Still, they ended up dating each other. 

At this point, Viserys is convinced that no matter how anyone messes with the timeline those two are going to find a way to fuck each other. 

One night they all got together and Viserys told them the full story of his journey to the past but left out the part where he fell in love with a Dornish knight because he wanted to keep that for himself. 

Rhaegar and Daenerys were jealous that they didn’t get to ride dragons and then a deep discussion about how technically Daenerys did ride a dragon because her past life did. But then that only made the situation far too confusing. 

Lyanna was still pissed that she died in childbirth. “How unoriginal,” she said. 

The most important thing was that Viserys beat the curse. 

The world has changed greatly as well. 

Of course, dragons aren’t flying around but current Westeros and the world as a whole have dragons to thank for its technological advancements for sure. There are also monuments in honor of Daenerys and Jacerys throughout the country. And their sons and daughters are recognized as well. 

For a while, Viserys believed that no one from that time remembered him. But then one day Rhaegar, ever the historian in his spare time, came across a journal that belonged to Queen Daenerys. 

It is said she wrote in it a lot during her old age especially after the death of her husband. Jon died on a hunting trip with his sons in the north. 

The seventy-year-old king fought a bear according to the texts and took the beast down with him. The entire realm mourned for their king and it is said Rhaegal wouldn’t eat for a week following Jon’s death. The king and queen's youngest daughter, Lyanna, was the only one who could get Rhaegal to eat, and later she became Rhaegal’s new rider. 

In the journal, Daenerys wrote that no matter how much she’s starting to forget with her aging mind and though she tends to forget her children’s faces from time to time, she has never forgotten the brother who was there for when she needed him most. 

_The mind may forget but the heart never will…_

Viserys cried like an infant after reading that. 

Throughout the journal, Daenerys even mentions him by name and writes about how she knows he’s still out there somewhere. She died at the age of seventy-six. They said she went up on Drogon one last time and when the dragon touched ground again, she was gone with a smile on her face. 

Jon and Daenerys were survived by six children and a ton of grandchildren. 

-o0o-

“Seriously, Viserys,” Daenerys says, “you should give him a chance.” She sits down on Jacaerys’s lap and he puts an arm around her. “I know how you feel about dating but trust me, you’re going to want to meet this guy.” 

Viserys sighs. His sister and nephew are once again trying to set him up on a blind date. Well, actually it’s Daenerys’s doing. It’s always her doing. Jacaerys is just here for free entertainment. He isn’t sure which of the two are the worst. He thinks they’re both equally bad. 

“You say this about every person you try to set me up with.” Viserys continues scrolling through his social media. They’re years ahead, technology-wise and there still isn’t an interesting social media platform. He’s just here to pass the time. “Remember that Lyseni twink you tried to put me with.” 

Jacaerys laughs. “That was my idea.” 

“Fuck you. You both know I don’t like twinks.” 

The couple laughs, and he wants to kick them out. Shouldn’t they be studying for exams or creating another scandal for Rhaegar to scold them about? They’re hardly as wild as the Tyrell kids but they’re up there. 

“I know you’re tired of being single,” Daenerys starts, in her best impersonation of a counselor. “And I know I haven’t been the best in the past when it came to setting you up on dates, but I swear that this time is different.” 

Jacaerys rests his chin on Daenerys’s shoulder. “She’s right. This time won’t be a failure.” 

Viserys frowns.

Are they both just trying to trick him for the hell of it again? He’s far too lenient with them. He should’ve bullied them more when they were younger but the time-traveling exploits made him soft. 

That aside, one reason why Viserys always falls for these setups is that he’s far too curious for his own taste. 

Maybe a small part of him remains hopeful that he’ll find his other half. He’s getting old as shit with each passing day and his nice ass won’t be so nice forever. He needs to make someone fall in love with him before his body starts to fail him so that they can overlook his faults and love him for him. 

Jaecerys whispers to Daenerys. “He’s thinking about it…” 

“Oh fuck off!” Viserys says, tossing a pillow at the laughing couple. “Who is this person anyway?” 

“It’s a secret,” Daenerys says. “I need to know if you’re open to meeting up with him later. I showed him your picture and he really wants to meet you!” 

Viserys would want to meet himself too if he saw a picture. “Fine. Tell me when. I’m a busy man.” 

“Tonight.” 

“Tonight? That’s sudden.” 

“Are you free or not?” 

He could always lie and say he has work to do but they both know he doesn’t have work to do which is why they chose tonight. They’re so diabolical. 

Viserys agrees to the meeting. 

His sister wastes no time raiding his closet and picking him out something to wear as if he hasn’t been voted as “Best Dressed” in several fashion magazines for five years straight. But dressing him up seems to make her happy, and no matter how much she irritates him at times the way younger siblings tend to do, making Daenerys happy is still a priority. 

A few hours later he’s sitting at a table at a high-rise bar waiting for his blind date. He’s never nervous when it comes to these sorts of things. He’s seen a lot of shit. Matters of the heart don’t affect him at all he says as he nervously taps his finger on the table and his heart pounds in his chest. 

He wishes he could cast a spell to make the feelings go away, but ever since he left the past, his family’s magic hasn’t been the same. It’s not as powerful as it used to be. He supposes they used up quite a lot for that spell.

“Hello, sorry for making you wait so long.” 

Viserys recognizes that voice.

It’s strange how it sounds exactly how he remembers. Smooth, deep, with an amusing lilt. He looks up and sees a face he never thought he would see outside of dreams and memories. Those same blue eyes that captured him from the moment he saw them. 

“I didn’t have to wait too long,” Viserys says. 

With a smile, his blind date extends his hand. “Daemon,” he says. 

"Viserys." He takes the hand, giving it a shake. 

They stare at one another for a long second before Daemon blinks and chuckles. 

"Sorry, it's just that..." Daemon frowns. "Have we met before? I felt like we did when your sister showed me your picture but I can't be sure..." 

Viserys can't believe this is happening. He can't believe he has a chance at a happy ending, too. 

"Are you in the mood for a long story, Daemon?" Viserys asks. 

Daemon smiles. He walks over and sits down in the other chair. "I'm all ears." 

The End. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my self-indulgent crack fic <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
